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WHEN  LOVE  FLIES 
OUT  O'  THE  WINDOW 


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WHEN  LOVE  FLIES 
OUT  O'  THE  WINDOW 


BY 

LEONARD  MERRICK 

author  of 

"the  actor-managek "  ;    the  worldlings,"  etc. 


London 
Arthur  Pearson  Ltd. 
Henrietta  Street 
1902 


The  complete  MS,  of  "  When  Love  Flies  out  d'  the 
Window^^  was  cut  by  the  author  with  a  view  to  its 
serial  publication.  The  passages  and  chapters  which 
were  then  deleted  have  been  restored^  and  the  tale  i7t 
its  entirety  is  now  printed  for  the  first  ti?ne. 


WHEN  LOVE  FLIES 
OUT  O^  THE  WINDOW 

CHAPTER  I 
THEN  the  omnibus  left  the    Royal  Oak  " 


V  V  there  were  seven  strangers  in  it ;  one  of 
them  was  a  girl.  Because  the  sun  was  shining, 
and  she  had  risen  with  a  little  hope  in  her  heart, 
she  wondered  where  the  six  others  were  going, 
and  what  their  stories  were.  In  the  morning, 
while  she  was  jolted  into  town  expectant,  she 
often  scanned  the  faces  of  the  women  opposite, 
and  tried  to  guess  their  lives ;  in  the  afternoon, 
when  she  returned  despairing,  she  noted  nothing 
but  the  superiority  of  their  clothes. 

Hers  were  eloquent.  The  hat  suited  her,  but 
it  was  a  white  Leghorn,  and  the  month  was 
October ;  her  gloves  were  carefully  put  on — too 
rare  a  virtue  in  woman — but  they  smelt  of  ben- 
zine ;  her  cheap  lace  tie  was  fresh,  but  pinned 


when  Love  Flies 


to  hide  the  shabbiness  of  her  coat-front,  and  she 
had  tucked  most  of  her  skirt  out  of  sight. 

She  was  a  pale  Httle  girl,  with  fair  hair,  and 
eyes  the  colour  of  forget-me-nots.  She  looked 
as  if  she  needed  happiness  and  three  good  meals 
every  day.  When  she  grew  tired  of  conjecturing 
the  affairs  of  the  glum-faced  six,  her  mind  re- 
verted to  her  own,  and  then  her  lips  tightened  and 
anxiety  showed  in  her  expression  for  all  to  read. 
The  others  in  the  'bus  read  nothing,  however,  ex- 
cept the  advertisements  extolling  cocoa  and  soap. 

Her  history  was  quite  commonplace.  She  had 
a  voice,  and  once  singing-masters  had  taken 
guineas  for  training  it,  and  a  devoted  father 
had  foreseen  a  brilliant  career  for  her.  Not 
without  a  struggle  had  he  resigned  himself  to 
the  idea  of  her  becoming  celebrated,  but  he  was 
a  medical  man  with  a  moribund  practice,  and  he 
said,  ''As  Heaven  has  given  Meenie  a  fortune 
in  her  throat,  perhaps  it  would  be  wrong  of  me 
to  stand  in  her  way.''  When  he  had  persuaded 
himself  to  accept  this  view,  the  singing-masters 
who  accepted  the  guineas  congratulated  him  on 
his  wise  decision.  So  Meenie  studied  harder 
than  ever — to  win  the  fortune.  And  meanwhile 
the  practice  died,  and  the  summer  after  he  had 
sacrificed  his  life-policy  her  father  died  too. 

6 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Then  Meenie  Weston  took  her  voice  into  the 
market-place,  and  the  last  death  to  embitter  her 
youth  was  the  death  of  her  illusion.  The  little 
money  in  her  possession  melted  rapidly.  The 
prophecies  of  the  professors  ceased  with  the 
payment  of  the  fees.  She  wrote  letters  to  an 
eminent  impresario,  and  received  no  answers 
from  him.  She  pleaded  in  person  for  concert 
engagements,  eager  very  soon  to  earn  a  sovereign, 
and  learnt  that  novices  were  expected  to  sing 
gratis  for  the  advantage  of  being  heard.  She 
volunteered  to  sing  gratis  for  the  advantage  of 
being  heard,  and  was  asked  to  take  twenty 
pounds'  worth  of  tickets — in  other  words,  to 
pay  the  manager  for  putting  her  on  his  plat- 
form. When  she  explained  that  she  couldn't 
afford  it,  the  manager,  who  was  renowned  for 
the  services  he  had  rendered  to  musical  art 
in  England,  said  that  there  were  many  young 
singers  who  could,  and  turned  his  back  on  her. 

With  such  histories  London  teems,  and  many 
of  them  have  their  sequels  in  the  chorus  of  the 
comic  opera  stage.  It  was  into  the  chorus  of 
comic  opera  that  she  drifted  at  last,  nodding  her 
head,  and  clapping  her  hands,  and  tripping  to 
right  and  left  in  a  scantily  dressed  crowd  for 
higher  wages  than  she  could  earn  by  ruining 

7 


when  Love  Flies 


her  health  behind  a  counter.  And  now,  at 
twenty-two,  she  expected  nothing  better.  As 
the  omnibus  rumbled  up  Edgware  Road  she 
was  hoping  for  another  chorus  engagement  as 
passionately  as  she  had  once  hoped  to  be  a 
prima  donna,  for  she  had  been  trying  to  obtain 
one  for  a  long  while,  and  all  that  remained  in 
her  purse,  after  the  conductor  collected  fares,  was 
sevenpence  halfpenny  and  some  pawn  tickets. 

She  drove  as  far  as  twopence  entitled  her  to 
go,  and  got  out  at  the  corner  of  Tottenham 
Court  Road  and  Oxford  Street.  It  was  her 
custom  to  walk  from  this  point  to  the  Strand, 
and  to  call  in  quest  of  an  opening  at  the  offices 
of  the  dramatic  agents ;  but  this  morning  she 
was  not  going  direct  to  the  Strand.  For  once 
her  prospect  was  a  shade  brighter. 

She  made  her  way  down  Charing  Cross  Road 
into  Shaftesbury  Avenue.  Here  somebody  called 
to  her  by  name,  and,  turning,  she  saw  a  girl  who 
had  been  on  tour  with  her  in  the  spring. 

''Oh,  Miss  Russell !  how  are  you?  Did  I  pass 
you  ? 

How  d  ye  do,  Miss  Weston  ?  Why,  I  thought 
you  were  in  America,  my  dear !  " 

Among  the  ladies  of  the  chorus  ''my  dear" 
does  not  necessarily  imply  regard ;  they  are  "my 

8 


Out  o'  the  Window 


dear  "  to  one  another  the  moment  they  are  intro- 
duced :  Miss  Fitz-Gerald,  this  is  my  friend 
Miss  St.  George ! "  Then  Miss  St.  George  and 
Miss  Fitz-Gerald  say  at  the  same  time  :  Pleased 
to  meet  you,  my  dear !  " 

Meenie  and  her  acquaintance  shook  hands  out- 
side a  costumier  s,  and  took  stock  of  each  other. 
Miss  Russell  put  the  stereotyped  question — 

Well,  what  are  you  doing  now  ?  Where  are 
you  ?  " 

Meenie  made  an  unusual  answer — 
Tm  not  doing  anything — I  can't  find  anything 
to  do.'' 

Such  unprofessional  candour  surprised  Miss 
Russell ;  she  forgot  to  boast. 

Tm  looking  for  a  'shop'  myself,"  she  said. 
How  long  have  you  been  '  out '  " 

''Oh,  I've  had  a  long  spell  of  it — months.  I 
suppose  you  can't  tell  me  of  anything,  can  you?" 

''Not  me !  All  the  companies  are  on  the  road 
at  this  time  of  year  ;  there  won't  be  a  chance  now 
till  Christmas.    Have  you  settled  for  panto  ?  " 

"  '  Pantomime '  ?  "  The  girl  who  had  dreamed 
of  singing  Isolde  sighed.  "  I  shan't  be  able  to 
wait  till  pantomime.  I  shall  be  buried  before 
the  pantomimes  are  produced  if  something  doesn't 
turn  up  first." 

9 


When  Love  Flies 


''Thats  rough!"  returned  the  other.  '^Things 
are  bad  with  you,  are  they  ?  Well,  they  aren't 
very  gay  with  me,  goodness  knows !  I  was  going 
to  Russia  for  six  weeks,  but  it  fell  through/' 

Tm  sorry,"  said  Meenie.  ''You  see,  IVe 
been  ill,"  she  added;  ''that  is  why  Tm  not  in 
the  American  tour,  and  couldn't  look  for  anything 
else  until  it  was  too  late.  I've  sometimes  wished 
I  hadn't  got  well  again." 

"And  what  price  this  one?  I've  been  out 
with  The  Lady  Barber  s  Oath  since  I  saw  you, 
and  the  tour  dried  up,  and  they  left  us  to  pay 
our  own  fares  back  from  Grimsby.  How's  that.^ 
Of  course  the  kiddies  are  with  mother,  but  I've 

got  to  send  a  '  P.  O.'  every  week,  and  " 

She  groaned,  and  put  out  her  hand  again. 
"Well,  I  wish  you  better  luck,  my  dear!  I 
must  be  off;  I've  got  to  get  to  Camberwell." 

Meenie  stood  wrestling  with  a  strong  tempta- 
tion to  be  mean.    Then  she  said  feebly —  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  of  the  only  opening  I  know 
myself :  they're  trying  voices  at  the  Piccadilly. 
I  heard  it  at  Potter's  yesterday — I'm  going  there 
now." 

"Well,  I'm  blessed!"  exclaimed  Miss  Russell; 
"you  are  a  trump,  and  no  mistake!"  She  came 
near  to  blushing.    "To  tell  you  the  truth,"  she 

lO 


Out  o'  the  Window 


owned,  ''thats  where  I'm  going  myself,  and 
I  didn't  mean  to  lose  a  chance  by  giving  you 
the  hint.    Ain't  I  a  cat  ?  " 

N — no,"  said  Meenie — but  the  confession 
hurt  her — you  aren't  a  cat ;  you're  a  soprano, 
and  so  am  I.  Let  us  hope  there  will  be  room 
for  both  of  us.  /  nearly  held  my  tongue  about 
it  too." 

They  proceeded  towards  the  Piccadilly  Theatre 
together,  and  entered  the  stage  door.  The 
functions  of  a  stage  doorkeeper,  so  far  as  they 
are  to  be  ascertained  by  observation,  consist  of 
eating  his  meals  in  a  violent  draught,  and  adding 
by  every  means  in  his  power  to  the  aspirant's 
difficulties.  In  the  present  case,  how^ever,  the 
chorus  ladies  had  no  need  to  buy  civility  with 
a  shilling,  nor  to  wait  while  their  names  were 
taken  in.  The  announcement  that  the  agent 
had  sent  them  down  served  as  ''Open  Sesame," 
and  they  were  suffered  to  pass  into  a  passage 
which  led  to  the  stage. 

At  the  sight  of  it  they  glanced  at  each  other 
in  dismay.  One  would  have  imagined  that  half 
the  chorus  girls  in  London  were  congregated 
here,  and  everyone  was  holding  a  dilapidated 
copy  of  a  ballad  that  had  been  her  test  song 
for  years.     A  noticeable  peculiarity  of  all  the 

II 


when  Love  Flies 


copies  was  the  form  in  which  they  had  been 
folded  :  chorus  ladies  always  secrete  their  songs 
in  their  pockets  on  their  way  to  have  their  voices 
tried,  because  every  applicant  for  an  engagement 
desires  it  to  be  believed  that  she  is  too  well 
known  for  any  trial  to  be  necessary. 

As  the  new-comers  merged  into  the  crowd, 
several  threw  them  despondent  greetings.  After 
the  sunshine  outside  it  was  dark  in  the  theatre, 
for  the  only  illumination  came  from  the  T-piece, 
and  it  was  a  few  seconds  before  they  began  to 
distinguish  the  features  of  those  who  nodded 
to  them.  At  a  piano  an  elderly  woman  in  a 
black  dress  was  playing  an  accompaniment.  In 
the  stalls  a  posse  of  important  gentlemen,  who 
were  supposed  to  be  listening,  smoked  cigars, 
and  exchanged  remarks  in  not  very  subdued 
tones.  When  the  girl  who  was  endeavouring 
to  make  herself  heard  had  sung  the  first  verse, 
one  of  them  got  up,  and  said  brusquely — 

''Thank  you,  my  dear.  You  can  leave  your 
name  and  address.    Next,  please  !  " 

''Skes  out  of  it!"  remarked  Miss  Russell  in 
a  cheerful  whisper,  and  the  girl  pocketed  her 
tattered  music  with  evident  discomfiture.  ''You 
can  leave  your  name  and  address is  the  doom 
evasive. 

12 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Another  girl  was  called  down  to  the  piano. 
She  inquired  nervously  if  the  lady  in  black 
knew  ''She  Often  Dreamed  of  Happier  Days." 
The  lady  in  black  didn't.  It  is  characteristic 
of  the  chorus  mistress  never  to  know  the 
accompaniment  of  the  song  which  the  applicant 
particularly  wishes  to  sing.  The  girl  began 
Nobody s  Darling  but  Mine"  instead,  and 
just  as  she  was  approaching  her  favourite  note 
the  stout  gentleman  who  had  spoken  before 
stopped  her  with — 

*^  Yes,  my  dear.    Thank  you." 

At  this  the  girl  turned  paler  than  she  had  been 
when  she  commenced,  and  retired  in  confusion. 
"  Yes,  my  dear.  Thank  you  "  is  the  doom  direct. 

The  crowd  came  down  to  the  piano  one  by  one. 
Some  left  it  jauntily,  some  withdrew  abashed. 
After  she  had  been  standing  about  the  stage  for 
two  hours,  Meenie  seized  an  opportunity  to 
address  the  stout  gentleman. 

''Oh,  please  will  you  hear  me?"  she  said. 
"  Do  hear  me !    Mr.  Potter  sent  me  down." 

"  What  s  your  voice  ?    he  asked. 

"Soprano,  Mr.  Jenkinson." 

^'Soprano?"  he  said  shrilly.  "Good  Lord, 
we're  overdone  with  sopranos !  No  use,  my 
dear.    Very  sorry,  very  sorry,  but  we  only  want 

13 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


contraltos  now."  He  put  up  his  arms  and 
shouted,  No  more  sopranos  wanted,  ladies ! 
Sopranos  needn't  wait !  " 

A  loud  chattering  arose,  and  soprani — pretty, 
plain,  tall,  short,  clumsy,  graceful,  dowdy,  and 
smartly-dressed  flocked  through  the  wings  with 
resentful  faces.  Meenie  stood  where  he  had  left 
her,  swallowing  a  lump  in  her  throat.  She  felt 
that  her  last  chance  had  gone,  and  she  was 
hopeless.  After  a  moment  she  looked  round  for 
Miss  Russell,  but  Miss  Russell  had  gone  too. 


14 


CHAPTER  II 


IT  was  one  o clock,  so  the  little  girl  betook 
herself  forlornly  to  a  dairy,  where  a  glass 
of  milk  and  a  scone  served  her  for  dinner.  She 
would  have  preferred  a  bun,  but  a  scone  is  more 
filling,  and  the  same  price. 

She  sat  in  the  milk  shop  wondering  what  she 
could  find  to  pawn  on  the  morrow.  Her  father's 
watch  and  chain,  and  the  locket  that  had  been 
her  mothers  were  pledged  already.  Perhaps 
she  could  obtain  a  few  shillings  on  a  white  silk 
frock,  which  was  a  relic  of  the  days  when  she 
used  to  go  to  parties.  There  was  certainly 
nothing  else.  She  decided  to  run  out  with  it 
when  she  was  sure  the  landlady  was  in  the 
basement.  So  far  her  landlady  had  not  suspected 
the  lodger s  visits  to  the  pawnbrokers,  or  she 
would  have  given  her  notice,  forestalling  a 
petition  to  wait  for  the  rent. 

When  the  scone  was  eaten  and  she  had 
finished  the  milk,  Meenie  went  out  into  the 
street  again.  There  was  nothing  for  her  now 
but  her  daily  routine,  and  she  trudged  to  the 

15 


when  Love  Flies 


Strand.  She  must  go  to  Potter  s.  She  wanted 
to  tell  him  that  she  couldn't  get  in  at  the 
Piccadilly,  and  to  implore  him  to  find  her  some- 
thing else.  But  Potter's  was  always  besieged — 
Potters  this  afternoon  would  be  thronged — she 
would  be  amazingly  lucky  if  she  contrived  to 
speak  to  him. 

The  location  of  Mr.  Potters  dramatic  agency 
was  as  well  known  to  theatrical  folk  as  the 
whereabouts  of  Trafalgar  Square ;  his  name 
and  the  description  of  his  business  in  the  door- 
way were  merely  a  concession  to  custom — a 
faded  superfluity.  As  Meenie  neared  the  end 
of  her  walk  an  experienced  eye  showed  her 
several  strangers  bound  for  Potter  s  :  she  could 
tell  their  calling  by  their  carriage  and  their 
costumes;  and  the  neighbourhood  that  they  were 
in  left  little  doubt  as  to  their  destination. 

She  mounted  a  stone  staircase  as  high  as  she 
could  go,  and  then  paused  patiently.  Over  the 
heads  of  the  actors  and  actresses  avid  of  engage- 
ments she  could  read  a  printed  notice  to  the  effect 
that  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  requested  not  to 
block  the  landing.  Nobody  else  appeared  to 
have  noticed  it,  however.  On  the  stage  of  the 
Piccadilly  Theatre  the  crowd  had  been  composed 
solely  of  choristers ;  here  on  the  staircase  of  the 

i6 


Out  o'  the  Window 


agent,  chorus  girls  rubbed  elbows  with  the 
heroines  of  melodramas — lovers,  villains,  in- 
gdnues,  and  Irish  comedians  were  thrown  together 
indiscriminately.  Provincial  actresses  compared 
notes  of  their  successes — on  both  sides  edited 
for  publication.  Men  attired  in  their  best  suits 
boasted  to  women  having  every  natural — and 
many  an  unnatural — shade  of  hair.  In  the  hum 
>  of  voices  such  falsehoods  as  Seven  pounds  a 
week,  my  dear,  but  that  wasn't  good  enough 
for  me^'  could  be  caught  continually.  When  a 
glimpse  was  obtainable,  through  the  mob,  of  the 
earlier  arrivals  who  had  secured  seats  in  the 
waiting-room,  girls  could  be  seen  devouring 
sandwiches — clients  who  had  come  resigned  to 
spend  the  day  here,  and  carried  their  luncheons 
(with  their  powder-puffs)  in  their  satchels. 

The  waiting-room,  when  she  reached  it  at  last, 
contained  many  accustomed  figures.  There  were 
the  girls  who  were  able  to  keep  up  appearances, 
and  to  call  in  different  hats  each  time  ;  her  own 
was  always  the  same.  There  were  girls  who, 
like  herself,  came  every  day,  and  had  learnt  one 
another's  clothes  by  heart.  Every  day  they  sat 
here — and  always  with  a  fainter  hope ;  every  day 
they  went  away  desponding — each  to  the  trouble 
that  the  others  didn't  know. 


B 


17 


when  Love  Flies 


She  stood  by  the  mantelpiece  and  stared  at  the 
great  photographs  of  triumphant  women  that 
decorated  the  walls.  How  she  had  grown  to  hate 
them !  The  smiling  favourites  of  the  West  End 
seemed  to  mock  her.  Sometimes  she  could  have 
dashed  her  fist  against  the  glass  that  preserved  a 
picture,  as  she  waited,  hour  after  hour  with  aching 
feet,  under  a  portrait  that  simpered,  ceaselessly 
simpered,  in  her  face. 

A  superior  person  who  drew  a  salary  every 
week  in  the  year  rattled  without  respite  at 
her  typing-machine.  Meenie  contemplated  her 
jealously.  A  youth  of  important  bearing  sat  at 
a  table  making  entries  in  an  account-book.  He 
also  had  regular  employment,  and  she  envied  him 
as  well.  The  door  of  the  private  office  opened, 
and  Mr.  Potter  came  out,  and  crossed  briskly  to 
his  partner's.  The  sensation  was  intense.  A 
dozen  men  and  women  sprang  towards  him 
clamouring;  in  pitiable  eagerness  one  girl  caught 
at  his  coat-tails. 

''Can't  see  any  of  you  now,"  he  said;  and 
vanished.  A  Brobdignagian  sigh  seemed  to 
be  heaved  in  the  room.  Meenie  dropped  back 
to  the  fireplace  drearily.  For  a  minute  nobody 
spoke.  The  relentless  racket  of  the  typing- 
machine  was  the  only  sound. 

i8 


Out  o'  the  Window 


You  look  tired,  my  dear  !  Sit  down  here,  if 
you  like — I  can  squeeze  up/' 

She  turned  her  head,  and  saw  that  the  speaker 
was  a  young  woman  whom  she  had  not  noticed 
before. 

''Thanks/'  she  murmured,  ''I  should  be  very 
glad  to." 

It  s  tiring  work  !  " 

''Very,"  she  said.  "  How  long  have  you  been 
here  ? " 

"  Four  hours !  And  I  don't  want  an  engage- 
ment— Fm  only  waiting  to  tell  him  that  I  can  t 
take  one." 

"You're  lucky!" 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  am.  You  see,  I've  half 
settled  with  him  to  join  TAe  Best  of  All  Girls, 
and  this  morning  I  got  a  much  better  offer  on 
my  own.  That's  just  how  things  happen,  isn't 
it !  I  came  here  as  early  as  I  could — I  must  tell 
him  how  I  stand  at  once." 

"In  The  Best  of  All  Girls  said  Meenie.  "Is 
it  for  chorus?  If  you  don't  want  it,  there  might 
be  a  chance  for  me — I  am  trying  for  a  chorus 
'shop.'"  Her  vocabulary  included  a  few  of  the 
slang  terms  of  her  profession  by  this  time.  She 
had  acquired  them  inevitably,  although  she  had 
begun  by  shuddering  at  them. 

19 


When  Love  Flies 


*'Oh  no,  my  dear,"  answered  the  other,  *^  it 
isn't  for  chorus  ;  it  s  a  part.  It  wouldn't  suit  you 
a  bit,  Tm  sure.  They  want  a  big  girl  with  a  figure 
like  mine.    Somebody  who  can  talk  to  the  band." 

The  sense  of  the  last  words  was  lost  on  Meenie, 
though  she  was  not  sufficiently  interested  to  ask 
what  theiy  meant.  They  referred  to  one  of  the 
alleged  humours  of  musical  comedy.  It  is,  in 
these  productions,  occasionally  the  duty  of  the 
orchestra  to  pretend  to  confuse  a  vocalist  by  the 
iteration  of  a  bar  that  sounds  like  oom-tarara. 
The  young  lady  stops  them,  saying,  ''Thank 
you  ;  Tve  had  quite  enough  of  your  impudence  !  " 
Then,  in  a  tone  of  portentous  warning,  she  adds, 
Tiddley  push  !  "  And  the  audience  yells.  The 
expression  was  esoteric  ;  the  girl  showed  that  her 
education  had  not  extended  so  far  as  that. 

''YouVe  new  in  the  business,  aren't  you?" 
said  the  woman.    ''What  have  you  done?" 

"I've  been  on  tour — only  the  chorus.  That's 
all  I'm  looking  for  now;  I  don't  expect  to  get 
anything  better — I'm  not  good  enough." 

"Oh,  never  say  die!  You've  got  a  good 
appearance,  anyhow,  and  that's  half  the  battle. 
Why  don't  you  take  a  few  lessons  ?  Haven't  you 
got  any  people  who  can  afford  to  pay  for  some 
for  you  ?  " 

20 


Out  o'  the  Window 


My  people  did  pay  for  some,"  said  Meenie  in 
low  tones.    ''They  are  dead/' 

There  was  a  little  pause.  The  machine  clat- 
tered furiously,  and  a  girl  with  a  voice  of  brass 
could  be  heard  saying,  "  She  can  call  herself 
'Principal  Boy'  till  shes  blue,  but  Tm  engaged 
to  play  Dandini !  Which  part  gets  the  most 
money  in  Cinderella  ?  " 

"  It  s  a  bad  job  when  you've  got  no  luck,  and 
no  oof,  and  you're  all  alone,"  continued  the 
woman.  "  Are  you  all  alone  ?  Lor' !  I  know 
what  it  is,  my  dear — no  need  to  tell  me — you  can 
jolly  well  starve  between  the  'shops,'  that's  what 
you  can  do  !  "  She  hesitated  for  a  second.  "  Do 
you  think  you  could  take  anything  better  than 
chorus  if  you  got  the  chance  ? "  she  inquired. 

"Why?"  said  Meenie,  with  a  little  stirring  at 
the  heart.  "  Do  you  mean  that  I  might  do  for 
The  Best  of  All  Girls,  after  all  " 

"  No.  I  tell  you  you  aren't  tall  enough  for 
that.  But  they're  making  engagements  for  the 
show  that  /  want  to  join.  If  I'd  heard  you,  I'd 
speak  for  you  to-morrow.  Anyhow,  there's  a  tip 
for  you,  if  you  like  to  try." 

"  Like  to  try  ?  "  Meenie  smiled.  "  I'm  ever  so 
glad  to  hear  of  it !  What  company  is  it  ?  What's 
the  part?" 

21 


When  Love  Flies 


It  isn't  a  part ;  it's  a  concert  engagement  for 
Paris.  They  want  two  or  three  people  to  sing 
in  English.  It's  only  a  small  hall — I  daresay 
you'd  be  quite  strong  enough.  I  was  at  the 
agent's  this  morning,  so  I  know  they  aren't 
complete  yet.  If  Potter  hasn't  got  anything  for 
you,  I'd  go  round  the  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
if  I  were  you." 

I'll  go  now,"  exclaimed  Meenie,  rising ;  ''they 
may  have  settled  with  everybody  by  to-morrow. 
Where's  the  office  ?    Is  it  near  ?  " 

Yes,  only  a  minute.  Look  here ;  I  won't 
wait  any  longer  myself  We'll  go  together,  and 
I'll  send  Potter  a  wire.  I  do  hope  something 
will  come  of  it.  You  looked  such  a  heap  of 
misery  when  you  were  standing  there — that  was 
how  I  came  to  speak  to  you." 

And  I  felt  miserable,  I  can  tell  you! ...  I  don't 
know  your  name.    Mine  is  Meenie  Weston." 

''Mine's  Nelly  Joyce.  Now  don't  blame  me 
if  it's  a  frost — it  depends  on  what  your  voice  is 
like.    Come  on  !  " 

Meenie  nodded,  and  hurried  down  the  stairs 
much  more  cheerfully  than  she  had  ascended 
them.     In    Bedford    Street   the  lio^hts  of  the 
Bodega"  were  inviting,  and  Miss  Joyce  pro- 
posed  that  they  should   ''drink  luck"  to  the 

22 


Out  o'  the  Window 


undertaking,  and  have  ''a  glass  of  port  wine." 
The  girl  had  been  in  the  chorus  too  long  to  be 
startled  by  the  suggestion,  and  though  she  was 
fearful  of  losing  the  prospective  salary  by  delay, 
she  recognised  the  worldly  wisdom  of  the  advice. 

Why,  you  little  white  thing,"  said  her  com- 
panion, ''you  look  a  sight  too  much  as  if  you 
wanted  a  'shop/  That  isn't  the  way  to  get  one. 
A  glass  of  wine  will  perk  you  up,  and  your  voice 
will  sound  twice  as  well.  What  are  you  going 
to  sing  ?  " 

"  IVe  a  song  in  my  pocket,"  said  Meenie.  "  I 
was  trying  to  get  in  at  the  Piccadilly  before 
I  went  to  Potters." 

They  sat  against  two  barrels,  labelled  '^  Pale 
Dry"  and  "  Rich  Old."  The  port,  and  the  faint, 
lurking  odour  of  the  place,  soothed  her  nerves  ; 
the  flower-pots  in  pink  paper,  and  the  blonde 
head  of  the  barmaid  behind  the  ferns  had  a 
festive  air.  The  atmosphere  was  scarcely  less 
theatrical  than  that  of  the  office  they  had  left. 
Actors  lounged  and  chatted  all  round  the  bar ; 
and  some  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  chorus, 
who  came  in,  helped  themselves  plentifully  to 
the  biscuits  and  cheese,  and  departed  without 
spending  a  copper,  their  manoeuvres  unnoticed 
in  the  crowd. 

23 


When  Love  Flies 


The  agency,  as  Miss  Joyce  had  said,  was 
close  by.  It  was  smaller  than  Potters — one  of 
the  struggling  ventures  which  are  constantly 
springing  up  in  the  streets  off  the  Strand, 
generally  to  enjoy  a  short  term  of  life.  *'The 
Continental  Operatic  and  Dramatic  Agency " 
was  painted  in  white  letters  on  a  black  board, 
between  a  hairdresser  s  and  a  florist  s,  and  on 
the  first  floor  the  name  met  the  girl's  eyes  again. 

The  outer  office  here  was  bare ;  the  photo- 
graphs displayed  were  chiefly  faded  cabinets, 
and  the  walls  were  adorned  merely  by  a  few 
playbills.  At  Miss  Joyce's  request,  a  boy  went 
to  ascertain  if  Mr.  Hughes  was  disengaged,  and 
after  about  ten  minutes  the  pair  were  admitted  to 
a  cosily  furnished  room,  containing  the  inevitable 
piano  and  more  likenesses  of  young  ladies  in 
tights. 

The  agent  cultivated  a  certain  professional  air 
himself,  although  he  made  his  living  by  the  per- 
formances of  others.  His  fat  face  was  clean- 
shaven, and  the  profuse  black  hair  that  he  had 
grown  was  combed  off*  his  forehead  without  any 
parting.  When  they  entered,  he  was  at  a  writing- 
table  littered  with  letters  and  the  evening  papers. 
Meenie  thought  he  looked  in  a  very  bad  temper. 
He  did  not  ask  them  to  sit  down,  but  inquired 

24 


Out  o'  the  Window 


curtly  of  Miss  Joyce  what  she  wanted,  cutting 
her  polite  greeting  short. 

I  advised  my  friend  to  come  and  see  you  about 
the  concert  engagements,"  she  answered.  She 
would  like  to  go  too,  if  there's  anything  open." 

I  think  we  re  full  up,"  he  said.  What  about 
yourself — are  you  free  or  not  ?  I  must  know  for 
certain  to-morrow  morning." 

ril  let  you  know  by  eleven  o'clock,  Mr. 
Hughes." 

He  turned  to  Meenie,  surveying  her  from  her 
fringe  to  her  feet. 

*'What  experience  have  you  had?" 
I  have  been  in  Mr.  Blandford's  companies  on 
tour,"  she  replied.    ''He  was  going  to  send  me 
to  America  with  TAe  Fair  Fakir,  but  I  fell  ill, 
and  couldn't  go." 

''What  parts?" 

"Only  chorus.  But  will  you  hear  me?  I 
have  a  song  with  me." 

"  Go  on,  then,"  he  said  ;  and  she  went  to  the 
piano,  and  began  her  own  accompaniment. 

She  sang  Lassen's  "Allerseelen,"  giving  the 
English  words.  Her  voice  was  sweet,  and  she 
sang  with  feeling.  "In  Death's  dark  valley  this 
is  Holy  Day."  The  agent  blew  his  cigar  smoke 
among  the  photographs  musingly ;  the  gloom  on 

25 


When  Love  Flies 


his  face  lightened  a  little,  and  he  did  not  inter- 
rupt her.  When  she  finished,  Miss  Joyce  threw 
her  an  encouraging  nod. 

''All  right,''  he  said.  It's  a  three  months' 
engagement ;  the  terms  are  fifty  francs  a  week. 
Will  that  suit  you  ?    I  can't  do  any  better." 

''Yes,"  she  answered,  trembling  with  joy, 
"that  will  do.  You  pay  the  fare  both  ways,  of 
course  ?  " 

"Yes,  we  pay  fares.  Are  you  free  to  go  to- 
morrow ?  " 

"  I  could  go  to-morrow,  certainly.    "  But  " 

She  hesitated.  "  IVe  been  'out'  a  long  time, 
and  " 

"You  can  have  a  pound  on  account  of  the  first 
week's  salary — that'll  cover  your  'exes,'  and  carry 
you  on."  He  made  some  insertions  in  a  contract, 
and  when  she  had  signed  it  he  gave  her  the 
sovereign.  "Be  at  Victoria  at  half-past  eight 
to-morrow  evening,  outside  the  telegraph  office. 
I'll  meet  you  with  your  ticket.  That's  all,  my 
dear.    Good  afternoon." 

He  jerked  his  head  towards  them  both,  and 
the  interview  was  concluded. 

"  Well,  you're  in  luck,"  exclaimed  Miss  Joyce, 
as  they  went  down  ;  "  that  was  soon  managed, 
wasn't  it  ?    You've  a  nice  little  voice  of  your 

26 


Out  o'  the  Window 


own,  too,  my  dear !  I  knew  he  would  settle  with 
you  as  soon  as  you  opened  your  mouth." 

Meenie  regarded  her  gratefully ;  they  sauntered 
on  a  few  yards  together  in  the  dusk. 

I  can't  tell  you  how  much  obliged  to  you  I 
am,"  she  said,  squeezing  her  arm.  I  do  hope 
you  will  get  out  of  the  Best  of  All  tour,  then 
we  can  go  together.  Which  way  are  you  going 
now  ?  Fm  going  up  Endell  Street ;  I  take  a 
'bus  from  Tottenham  Court  Road." 

This,  however,  was  not  the  other's  route,  and 
when  she  had  declined  an  invitation  to  tea  at  the 
Mocha  they  separated.  In  the  last  half-hour  the 
whole  aspect  of  the  city  had  changed  to  the  girl, 
and  London  hummed  gaily  in  her  ears.  To  the 
thousands  who  gain  a  hand-to-mouth  existence 
by  the  stage  an  engagement  for  three  months 
brings  a  sense  of  security  which  nobody  used 
to  regular  employment  can  comprehend.  Her 
troubles  had  already  faded  in  her  mind.  She 
neither  looked  back  nor  strove  to  see  further 
ahead.  The  contract  was  all-sufficing.  A  strug- 
gling governess  she  passed  felt  a  pang  of  bitter- 
ness as  the  little  girl  who  smiled  so  happily  hurried 
by ;  yet  even  the  wretched  governess,  had  she 
known  her  circumstances,  would  have  shuddered 
in  contemplating  so  precarious  a  mode  of  life. 

27 


When  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 

When  Meenie  had  parted  from  her,  Miss  Joyce 
retraced  her  steps  and  entered  the  private  office 
of  the  agent  again — this  time  with  less  ceremony. 

''Well,"  she  said,  ''what  do  you  think  of  her, 
eh?" 

"  She  s  pretty,"  said  the  man.  "Where  did 
you  pick  her  up  ?  There  won't  be  many  more  to 
be  got,  I  can  tell  you — the  damn  Press  is  publish- 
ing a  warning  !  Girls  are  'earnestly  warned  '  not 
to  sign  engagements  for  the  Continent  without 
writing  to  the  British  Consul  first.  There  you 
are ! "  He  caught  up  the  Star,  and  dabbed  his 
finger  on  a  paragraph,"  'Dangers  to  English  girls 
on  the  Continent ! '  And  it  s  in  the  Westminster 
and  the  Globe,  and  half  a  dozen  of  'em.  It'll  be 
all  over  the  Strand  by  to-morrow !  " 

She  leant  on  the  table  and  read  the  lines  that 
he  pointed  out  to  her. 

"That's  the  straight  tip,  isn't  it?"  she  mur- 
mured. "  But,  lor,  how  many  of  the  girls  it's 
written  for  ever  see  a  newspaper  ?  " 

"One  tells  another,  Nell ;  it  gets  about !" 

"  There'll  always  be  plenty  who  are  too  hard 
up  to  be  careful,"  she  said.  "  You've  got  this 
one  anyhow.  And  she  has  no  people  and  no 
friends,  so  there'll  be  nobody  to  make  a  fuss." 


38 


CHAPTER  III 


THE  young  woman  was  not  mistaken  in  her 
views.  When  she  declared  that  few  of 
those  to  whom  it  was  directed  would  profit  by 
the  caution,  she  was  familiar  with  her  subject ; 
she  understood  that  the  Press  was  endeavouring 
to  instil  prudence  into  a  class  whose  stupidity, 
coupled  with  their  circumstances,  made  protection 
a  difficult  matter.  Not  only  would  many  of  them 
learn  nothing  by  the  warning,  but  they  were 
ignorant  what  a  British  Consul  was.  They  had 
never  heard  of  a  British  Consul.  For  all  they 
knew,  ''The  British  Consul"  might  be  the  name 
of  a  public-house.  She  spoke  out  of  the  depths 
of  experience,  for  she  had  been  in  the  rank  and 
file  of  the  theatres  herself,  and  even  now  she 
seldom  read  anything  but  the  advertisement 
sheets  of  the  Era,  and  novelettes. 

That  the  tale  she  had  recited  was  purely 
imaginary  need  hardly  be  said — she  had  neither 
an  offer  from  The  Best  of  All  Girls  Company,  nor 
any  intention  of  proceeding  to  Paris.  Having 
cast  in  her  lot  with  Mr.  Hughes,  she  had  tem- 
porarily retired  from  the  boards,  and  served  him 
by  touting  for  a  business  which  had  every  pros- 

29 


when  Love  Flies 


pect  of  being  exposed  in  the  police-court.  More 
businesses  in  London  than  millions  of  Londoners 
suspect  are  touted  for  by  women.  Money-lenders 
frequently  find  them  useful,  though  they  require 
them  to  be  better  dressed  and  better  looking  than 
Nelly  Joyce. 

Meenie,  when  she  could  afford  to  buy  one,  did 
read  a  paper;  it  was  a  habit  of  her  non-profes- 
sional days  which  she  retained.  In  the  life  of 
every  girl  fighting  to  support  herself,  however, 
there  not  unnaturally  come  times  when  the  affairs 
of  the  world  possess  as  little  interest  for  her  as 
the  affairs  of  the  struggling  girl  possess  for  the 
world.  The  problem  which  engrosses  her  is  how 
to  keep  out  of  the  workhouse.  The  death  of  a 
monarch  or  the  defeat  of  a  nation  is  trivial. 
The  crisis  is  the  landlady's  bill. 

As  her  excitement  subsided  a  little,  Meenie 
was  stirred  by  a  sudden  anxiety  about  her  toilette. 
She  had  not  thought  of  it  immediately,  because 
she  was  accustomed  to  have  her  costumes  pro- 
vided by  the  management ;  now  it  occurred  to 
her  w^ith  dismay  that  in  a  concert-engagement 
she  would  be  expected  to  find  her  own  dress. 

The  only  evening  frock  she  could  boast  was 
the  one  of  doubtful  white  silk  that  she  had  pro- 
posed to  pawn.    When  she  reached  her  lodging, 

30 


Out  o'  the  Window 


she  took  it  out  of  her  box  and  examined  it  ruefully. 
She  determined  to  smarten  it  as  well  as  she  could 
with  some  fresh  ribbon  and  a  few  yards  of  lace. 

Next  morning,  directly  she  had  had  some  tea 
and  bread-and-butter,  she  went  to  Westbourne 
Grove  to  make  her  purchases.  When  the  frock 
was  finished,  she  looked  through  her  music,  and 
decided  what  songs  she  would  sing.  Then  she 
packed  everything — it  didn't  take  long — and  had 
dinner.  Brave  with  the  consciousness  of  money 
in  her  pocket,  she  had  ordered  a  chop. 

When  she  arrived  at  Victoria,  neither  Miss 
Joyce  nor  Mr.  Hughes  was  there,  and  she  waited 
by  the  telegraph  office  impatiently.  The  agent 
appeared  at  twenty  minutes  to  nine,  and  gave 
her  a  few  directions.  Replying  to  her,  he  said 
that  Miss  Joyce  had  found  it  impossible  to  cancel 
the  engagement  she  had  made  for  the  provinces. 
He  had  brought  the  ticket,  and  lest  the  girls 
views  had  altered,  and  she  should  try  to  sell 
it,  he  waited  to  see  her  depart. 

''You  had  better  drive  straight  to  this  address 
for  your  rooms,"  he  said,  producing  a  card  that 
he  had  written  on.  The  girls  always  stay  there. 
It  s  very  comfortable  and  near  the  hall." 

"  Will  the  people  be  up  when  I  get  in  ?  What 
time  shall  I  be  in  Paris  ? " 

31 


When  Love  Flies 


''A  quarter-past  seven.  If  you  have  a  cup 
of  coffee  at  the  station,  you  won't  be  at  the 
house  much  before  eight.  You  can  get  French 
money  on  the  platform  at  Newhaven  if  you 
want  to.  Oh,  you  d  better  change  to  second 
class  on  the  boat — here's  the  difference.  So 
long!    You're  off!" 

He  favoured  her  with  another  jerk  of  the 
head  and  lounged  away,  and  she  put  the  card 
and  the  silver  in  her  purse. 

The  journey  was  a  cold  one,  but  the  novelty 
of  it  kept  her  amused  at  first.  She  had  never 
had  dealings  at  a  money-exchange  ;  and  though 
she  accepted  the  few  strange  coins  with  mis- 
giving, to  hold  them  gave  her  a  sensation  of 
adventure.  She  had  never  crossed  the  Channel ; 
and  to  make  one  of  the  chilly  crowd  who  filed 
over  the  gangway  into  the  dipping  boat  seemed 
more  adventurous  still.  Even  the  discomfort  of 
the  passage  did  not  dispirit  her  much.  She 
lay  among  the  huddled  women,  who  alternately 
moaned  and  gurgled,  rejoicing  that  she  wasn't 
seasick  too.  The  motion  of  the  boat  was  un- 
pleasant, and  she  could  not  sleep,  but  though 
she  shivered  from  time  to  time,  she  was  not 
actually  dreary  until  Dieppe  was  reached. 

She  was  just  losing  consciousness  when  the 

32 


Out  o'  the  Window 


voices  and  the  bustle  apprised  her  that  they  were 
there.  She  clambered  down,  blinking  at  the 
lights,  and  joined  the  posse  who  pressed  forward 
on  the  deck.  The  knowledge  that  this  was 
France,  which  she  had  always  been  eager  to 
see,  could  not  prevent  her  teeth  chattering  in 
the  custom-house.  The  buffet  lured  her  to  its 
warmth,  but  it  was  besieged ;  the  waiter  was 
too  busy  to  observe  her  nervous  signals,  and  she 
lacked  the  courage  to  be  peremptory  in  a  foreign 
language.  Dieppe  was  black  as  they  steamed 
slowly  beside  its  shuttered  cafes ;  she  yawned  at 
it  dismally.  When  she  reopened  her  eyes  she 
was  in  Rouen. 

Twenty  minutes  past  five.  She  stretched  her- 
self a  little.  The  lamps  of  the  bookstall  blazed 
brilliantly ;  the  yellow  covers  of  the  novels,  and 
the  illustrated  papers  had  an  air  of  gaiety  at 
twenty  minutes  past  five.  How  funny  to  find 
a  bookstall  open  at  this  time !  French  shouts 
on  the  platform  ;  the  train  puffed  on  ;  her  fellow- 
passengers  disposed  themselves  anew  for  slumber. 
She  stared  through  the  window  while  the  land- 
scape lightened.  Sombre  trees  against  a  pallid 
sky  ;  a  river — could  it  be  the  Seine  ? — silver  in  the 
dawn  ;  the  flare  of  a  forge.  The  engine  panted 
peacefully.  Where  were  they  ?  Everybody  was 
c  33 


When  Love  Flies 


standing  up  and  collecting  bundles  and  bags.  Oh ! 
she  had  been  asleep  again — it  was  Paris. 

She  could  say,  Pass  the  salt,  if  you  please,'' 
in  French,  and  It  is  the  book  of  my  brother," 
but  when  she  wished  to  be  attended  to,  she 
could  only  utter  the  word  bagage,  which  she  had 
heard  constantly  shouted  on  the  quay.  For- 
tunately in  France  they  recognise  that  inter- 
preters are  desirable  at  great  termini,  and  it 
wouldn't  be  necessary  at  a  station  there  of  equal 
importance  to  Waterloo  for  a  German  to  rush 
distractedly  about  the  platforms  for  an  hour,  seek- 
ing a  traveller  who  could  translate  his  inquiry. 

After  she  had  drunk  the  anticipated  cup  of 
coffee,  which  was  a  great  surprise  to  her — for  the 
perfection  of  the  coffee  in  France  is  one  of  the 
articles  of  faith  of  everybody  who  hasn't  been 
there — she  followed  her  trunk  to  a  cab.  The 
extent  and  aspect  of  the  station  astonished  her  ; 
she  had  never  seen  one  before  that  was  not 
depressing.  Outside,  she  showed  the  card  that 
Mr.  Hughes  had  given  her  to  a  porter ;  and 
when  she  had  presented  him  with  two  coppers 
she  was  rattled  away. 

It  was  a  fine  morning,  and  the  pulses  of  the 
little  Bohemian  throbbed  joyously.  As  the  yokel 
on  the  box  invited  destruction,  she  could  have 

34 


Out  o'  the  Window 


sung  aloud.  The  smiling  streets,  the  uniforms 
of  the  policemen,  and  a  postman's,  the  sight  of 
the  names  over  the  shops  and  the  advertise- 
ments on  the  kiosks  delighted  her.  Presently 
the  pace  slackened ;  after  a  few  minutes  the  cab 
stopped.  She  waited  to  ascertain  if  there  was 
any  intention  of  going  on  again,  and  got  out. 

The  street  here  smiled  less  serenely ;  the 
high  houses  were  rather  dilapidated.  She  em- 
braced as  much  as  possible  of  the  neighbourhood 
in  a  glance,  and  pulled  the  bell  of  the  door 
which  the  driver  indicated  with  his  whip.  The 
bells  that  she  had  known  in  England  pealed  ; 
the  French  bell  emitted  a  single  deep  note,  and 
its  performance  did  more  to  make  her  feel  abroad 
than  anything  that  had  happened  yet.  Over- 
head she  saw  the  words  Chambres  Garnies 
painted  in  dull  red  capitals.  She  hoped  garnies 
meant  "cheap." 

The  woman  who  confronted  her  the  next 
moment  might  have  been  credited  with  having 
run  down  from  her  bed  but  for  the  fact  that  she 
had  appeared  too  quickly.  She  looked  as  all 
Parisiennes  of  the  lower  middle-class  look  until 
one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  :  her  striped  dress- 
ing-gown was  soiled,  her  hair  was  tousled,  and 
her  face  was  unwashed. 

35 


When  Love  Flies 


Madame  Montjou  ?  "  said  Meenie.  I  have 
just  arrived.   I  was  recommended  here  for  rooms." 

The  woman  wheezed. 
I  was  recommended  here  for  rooms,  fdtais 

recomm  "    She  took  Mr.  Hughes'  card  out 

again.       I  want  ckambresr 

At  this  the  woman,  who  was  evidently  troubled 
with  asthma,  became  as  voluble  as  her  complaint 
would  allow.  Her  fluency  was  restrained  by 
nothing  but  her  gasps,  and  it  began  to  seem 
as  if  she  would  never  leave  off  talking.  The 
unintelligible  sentences  were  interlarded  with  ques- 
tions, and  when  she  found  they  were  not  under- 
stood, she  had  recourse  to  gesture.  The  girl 
nodded  in  a  helpless  fashion ;  then,  resorting  to 
pantomime  herself,  held  out  her  money  and 
pointed  to  the  cabman. 

^'I  have  come  from  the  Gare  St.  Lazare,"  she 
said. 

"  Gare  St.  Lazare,"  repeated  the  proprietress ; 
ouiy  ouiy  Old — trois  francs 

She  picked  them  from  the  girl's  palm  and 
shuffled  to  the  curb,  and  Meenie  could  only 
suspect  that  the  man  did  not  get  them  all. 

As  the  cab  had  been  discharged,  she  assumed 
that  she  was  going  to  live  here  ;  and  the  sup- 
position was  strengthened  by  the  woman  beckon- 
ing to  her  to  go  upstairs. 

36 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Her  conductress  wheezed  shockingly  as  they 
mounted  to  the  first  floor.  There  she  turned  a 
handle,  and  with  a  flourish  displayed  a  florid  bed- 
room. 

''How much?" asked  Meenie.    Combien est-il?'' 
The  woman  opened  and  shut  both  hands  four 
times. 

Francs  ?  "  screamed  Meenie.  Forty  francs 
pour  le  semaine?''  She  made  violent  signs  of 
rejection. 

Tenez  !  "  said  the  woman. 
They  ascended  to  the  floor  above,  the  woman 
gripping  her  chest.     The  room  shown  on  this 
story  was  a  faded  edition  of  the  one  below. 

Combien  est-ilf  said  Meenie  again. 
The  wrinkled  hands  opened  and  shut  until  they 
signified  twenty-five  francs.    The  girl  shook  her 
head  vehemently. 

Tenez  said  the  woman. 
They  toiled  to  the  third — and  to  the  fourth 
floor.  The  woman's  breath  was  now  whistling 
like  a  high  wind,  and  Meenie  counted  the  move- 
ments of  the  dirty  hands,  palpitating  with  sus- 
pense. On  the  fourth  floor  it  was  possible  to 
acquire  a  room  at  a  weekly  rental  of  twelve 
francs.  She  agreed  to  it  by  a  nod,  and  intimated 
that  she  would  like  some  breakfast. 

Tenez     said  the  woman,  and  shuffled  out. 
37 


CHAPTER  IV 


SHE  returned  presently  with  a  jug  of  choco- 
late and  some  rolls.  The  tray  was  a  marked 
improvement  on  the  breakfast  trays  of  Bayswater, 
and  the  girls  enjoyment  of  the  meal  was  only 
damped  by  her  doubt  of  what  it  was  to  cost. 
Out  of  the  prepaid  half  of  her  first  week  s  salary 
merely  a  few  coppers  remained.  She  reflected, 
in  munching,  that  she  must  be  very  economical. 
The  day  was  Wednesday,  and  there  would 
be  difficulties  on  the  Wednesday  following  if 
her  food-bill  for  the  interval  exceeded  thirteen 
francs. 

After  she  had  rung  for  some  soap,  and  waited 
an  hour  or  more  for  her  brush  and  comb,  the 
woman's  husband  brought  up  the  box.  He 
said — 

Monsieur  ees  ere  ;  e  shall  mount  ? 

Who  is  here  ? "  she  asked,  relieved  to  find 
that  somebody  had  risen  now  who  was  partially 
intelligible. 

Monsieur  Le  Beau — from  ze  'All ;  e  desire 
to  see  mad'moiselle." 

3B 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed  ;     Til  go  down  to  him." 

In  the  passage  she  saw  the  landlady,  and 
gathered  from  her  thumb  that  she  would  find 
the  visitor  in  the  dining-room.  The  dining-room 
was  meagrely  furnished ;  the  visitor  was  rotund 
and  middle-aged.  His  puffy  cheeks  were  quite 
colourless,  and  his  eyelids  hung  so  low  that  the 
eyes  themselves  were  scarcely  visible.  At  the 
corners  of  his  upper  lip  a  few  blonde  hairs  were 
waxed  into  upward  spikes. 

You  are  Meenie  Veston,  yes  ?  "  he  inquired. 

She  said  she  was.  I  came  by  last  night  s 
boat." 

*'Mr.  'Ughes  as  writ  me.  We  make  a  rtkarssl 
for  you  at  eleven  o'clock.  You  spik  French, 
mees  ? " 

No,"  she  said,    Vm  sorry  to  say  I  don  t." 

Ah,  you  learn  verra  soon  ;  before  you 
return,  you  spik  it  just  so  good  as  I  spik 
Eengleesh !  You  'ave  nevare  before  been  in 
Paris,  no?" 

No,  this  is  the  first  time." 
''Ah,  you  like  it  much !    You  come  now,  zen — 
zat  will  be  best.    You  soon  be  ready,  yes.^^  I 
show  ze  vay." 

No  other  manager  had  ever  called  on  her,  and 
his  presence  inspired  her  with  an  agreeable  flutter 

39 


When  Love  Flies 


of  importance.  She  ran  upstairs  and  unpacked 
her  portfolio,  and  put  on  her  hat  and  jacket, 
realising  the  emotions  of  a  prima  donna  with 
an  impresario  trembling  at  her  frown. 

''You  ave  brought  photographzV^  f  "  he  asked, 
as  they  made  their  way  up  the  street ;  nice 
photogmphies  of  you  in  costume  ?  I  ang  zem  in 
ze  'All." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you,"  she  replied,  ''but 
I  haven't  any  photographs  ;  I  wish  I  had  ! " 

He  rolled  his  head  reprovingly. 

"Vot  song^  you  ave?"  he  asked.  "Nice 
songs?" 

''  Oh,  I  have  plenty  of  songs  here — all  kinds. 
I  can  sing  whatever  you  like." 

''Bienl  I  shall  see;  I  shall  'ear  zem  at  ze 
re^^^rsal." 

She  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  he  had 
an  affection  for  the  last  word ;  it  contained  the 
only  aspirate  that  he  seemed  to  have  mastered, 
and  he  was  evidently  vain  of  it.  During  their 
short  walk  along  the  boulevard,  Monsieur  Le  Beau 
referred  several  times  to  the  re^^rsal,  and  always 
pronounced  it  as  boastfully  as  if  it  had  been  the 
name  of  a  distinguished  son. 

Most  people  who  have  stayed  in  Paris  know 
that  there  exists  there  a  peculiar  and  unpleasant 

40 


Out       the  Window 


tavern,  bathed  in  blue  light,  where  the  customers 
are  received  by  persons  habited  to  resemble 
celestial  beings.  It  is  called  ''le  Cabaret  du 
Ciel/'  There  exists  also  an  equally  peculiar, 
though  less  offensive,  establishment  where  the 
lights  blaze  red,  and  the  attendants,  attired  as 
devils,  greet  the  visitor  with  the  assurance  that 
Satan  is  waiting  for  him.  This  is  called  ''le 
Cabaret  de  TEnfer.''  One  day  it  occurred  to 
a  man  who  passed  that  it  would  be  a  bright  idea 
to  intersert  a  concert-room,  which  should  be  called 
*'le  Cabaret  de  THomme''  because  it  stood  be- 
tween ^'heaven"  and  ''hell." 

The  scheme  was  impracticable,  but  the  name 
lingered  in  his  mind.  ''Cabaret  de  I'Homme'' 
was  inscribed  on  the  fa9ade  before  which  Mon- 
sieur Le  Beau  stopped.  The  girl,  who  had  been 
realising  the  sensations  of  a  prima  donna,  stared 
at  it  blankly.  A  shop  window  had  been  thickly 
coated  with  red  paint,  and  to  the  centre  pane 
a  strip  of  paper  was  fastened,  headed  Ce  Soir. 
Beneath  was  a  list  of  the  singers'  names,  ap- 
parently scrawled  with  a  small  brush  dipped  in 
ink.  She  saw  that  the  upper  half  of  the  primitive 
advertisement  was  devoted  to  herself,  and  lest 
she  should  overlook  it.  Monsieur  Le  Beau  pointed 
it  out  to  her. 

41 


when  Love  Flies 


You  understand  ? he  said,  translating — 

'ZIS  EVENING 
MADEMOISELLE  MEENIE  VESTON 
EENGLEESH  ARTISTE 
FOR  ZE  FIRST  TIME  IN  FRANCE.''' 

She  nodded,  trying  to  conceal  her  disappoint- 
ment, and  he  opened  the  door. 

It  was  dark  inside.  The  room  was  low,  and 
the  paint  on  the  window  kept  the  light  out. 
Momentarily  she  did  not  see  much  ;  she  was  only 
conscious  of  the  atmosphere,  rank  with  the  stale 
fumes  of  cigarettes.  As  her  sight  adapted  itself 
to  the  obscurity,  she  saw  that  cigarette  ends  lay 
everywhere ;  they  littered  the  floor,  and  soaked 
in  the  beer-stained  glasses  which  a  sleepy-eyed 
waiter  was  collecting  from  the  little  tables. 
You  allow  smoking  here  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  But  certainly  ;  in  France  always  !  Ca  ne  fait 
rien.    You  sing  just  as  good.    Vait  a  beet ! " 

He  disappeared  and  left  her  to  swallow  her 
mortification.  For  an  instant  she  wished  with  all 
her  heart  that  she  were  back  in  London,  critical 
as  her  situation  there  had  been.  Even  when  she 
had  told  herself  that  any  engagement  was  better 
than  none,  her  dejection  refused  to  yield  to  the 
argument. 

She  sat  on  a  frowsy  velvet  lounge  against  the 
42 


Out  o'  the  Window 


wall,  noting  the  sordidness  of  the  scene — the 
semicircular  bar,  the  disordered  chairs  by  which 
the  tables  were  meant  to  be  surrounded,  the  small 
platform  supporting  a  piano.  So  this  was  the 
concert-hall.  Miss  Joyce  had  not  lost  much  !  As 
yet  her  reflections  went  no  further  than  that ;  it 
did  not  occur  to  her  all  at  once  that  Mr.  Hughes 
had  deliberately  misled  her. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  swarthy  woman  with  an 
enormous  bust  advanced.  Meenie  got  up,  and 
the  woman  said — 

''Eh  Hen,  ma  chere !  'Ow  you  are?  My 
usband  tell  me  you  spik  no  French,  no  ?  Sit 
down,  7na  chere.  'E  go  to  find  ze  pianist.  You 
are  tired  after  your  travel,  yes  ?  " 

No,  Tm  not  very  tired,"  said  Meenie  ;  IVe 
been  resting  at  the  lodgings.''  There  was  a 
pause,  and  since  the  manageress  was  so  cordial, 
she  thought  she  might  as  well  seek  advice  on 
her  threatened  dilemma.  Perhaps  you  could 
tell  me  what  I  ought  to  pay  for  meals  there?" 
she  went  on.  ''I  can't  go  out — I  mean  I  am 
bound  to  have  them  all  in  the  apartments— and 
I  shall  only  have  twenty-five  francs  next  Wed- 
nesday to  settle  everything." 

Appartement  ? "  said  Madame  Le  Beau  ; 
*'you  ave  an  appartement,  ma  chere  f 

43 


when  Love  Flies 


A  room — a  bedroom  ;  Mr.  Hughes  recom- 
mended the  place  to  me.  The  rent  is  moderate 
enough ;  but  I  have  so  little  to  manage  with  the 
first  week." 

*''Owmuch  she  charge  you?'' asked  the  woman. 
Twelve  francs.    Of  course  this  is  nothing 
to  do  with  you ;  I  oughtn't  to  talk  to  you  about 

it,  but  " 

Ca  ne  fait  rien,''  said  the  other,  shrugging 
her  shoulders  ;  I  understand.  Do  not  unquiet 
yourself!  She  know  me  verra  veil;  if  she  not 
trust  you,  you  say  to  er  she  is  to  come  to  me 
— I  tell  'er  it  ees  all  right.  And  she  ees  verra 
good — you  no  find  in  ze  quartier  an  'ouse  more 
sheep  as  her.  Ah,  oui,  out,  out' — she  flapped 
her  fingers  soothingly — do  not  unquiet  your- 
self! Listen,  ma  chere ;  your  costume  ees  in  ze 
dressing-room.  Ven  you  ave  sung  you  put  it 
on — you  see  if  it  fit  you  nice." 

'''Costume'?"  Meenie  looked  at  her  with 
big  eyes.  ''  Do  I  sing  in  costume — there  on 
that  platform?    I  have  my  own  dress." 

Eh  bien,  if  you  prefer  it,  ma  chere — ca  ne 
fait  rien  !    Vot  ees  it,  your  dress  ?  " 

The  girl  explained  breathlessly.  She  had  not 
been  in  the  chorus  lonor  enough  to  wear  bur- 
lesque  attire  on  the  stage  without  embarrassment, 

44 


Out  o'  the  Window 


and  the  thought  of  donning  it  for  a  room  terrified 
her. 

Oh,  but  no ! exclaimed  the  manageress 
when  she  understood;  ^'it  must  be  costume — 
zat  ees  impdratif !  But  it  ees  not  shoking — you 
will  see,  ma  chere.    You  will  like  it  quite  much." 

Monsieur  Le  Beau  returned  now,  with  a  bent 
old  man  who  crept  to  the  piano ;  and  during  the 
next  hour  Meenie  sang  selections  from  her  reper- 
tory, while  the  waiter  rinsed  the  glasses  in  a  pail. 

It  proved  an  irksome  task.  She  learnt  that 
her  introductory  song  and  her  last  must  be  lively, 
and  the  husband  and  wife  shook  their  heads 
again  and  again.  Their  names  were  Isidore  and 
Marie  she  soon  discovered ;  and  after  each  re- 
frain the  man  grimaced  at  Marie,  or  Marie  pursed 
her  thick  lips  at  Isidore.  Then  they  cried  shrilly 
together,  Plus  gai !  Plus  gai and  the  man 
added,  ''Ze  programme  ees  tres  important — it 
ees  for  zat  raison  ve  make  a  re/^arsal ! 

The  pianist  only  addressed  her  once  ;  he  spoke 
in  French,  and  she  could  not  understand  what  he 
said.  He  accompanied  so  well  that  it  startled 
her  to  see  his  face ;  what  was  left  of  his  mind 
seemed  far  away.  She  wondered  what  he  was 
thinking  of  while  he  played.  The  stare  in  his 
sunken  eyes  made  her   fancy  that  he  looked 

45 


When  Love  Flies 


through  the  music  and  the  cabaret  into  a  time 
when  he  too  had  known  his  hopes.  ''Plus  gai  ! 
Plus  gai  I came  the  cry ;  his  expression  never 
changed.  Automatically  he  turned  the  next 
sheet  that  she  passed  to  him — like  an  automaton 
the  wasted  fingers  worked  the  gayer  tune ;  and 
so  he  sat  there,  a  human  wreck  recalling  God 
knows  what. 

Allerseelen "  had  been  accepted  for  her 
second  turn  without  discussion,  but  when  The 
Fair  Fakir  had  contributed  her  third,  there  was 
still  the  question  what  she  should  sing  first. 
Eventually  she  bethought  herself  of  a  ditty  called 

The  Mermaid  and  the  Tar,"  and  she  was  thank- 
ful as  she  sang  it  to  see  Monsieur  Le  Beau  s  bald 
crown  swaying  complacently  to  the  air. 

When  she  stopped,  he  signified  his  approval  of 
this,  and  it  was  settled  that  she  should  make  her 
bow  to  le  Cabaret  de  I'Homme  with  ^^The  Mer- 
maid and  the  Tar."  The  manageress  patted  her 
on  the  arm. 

^'Sharming,  ma  chere !  Les  dtudiants  —  ze 
Eengleesh  and  ze  Americains — will  be  much 
pleased.  Mon  Dieu,  zey  will  be  dpatSs  I  File 
est  piqua7ite,  7iest  ce  pas,  Isidore  ?  Come  now, 
ma  chere,  and  I  show  you  ze  pretty  costume." 

She  led  Meenie  to  a  dressing-room  not  much 
46 


Out       the  Window 


larger  than  a  cupboard,  and  little  more  luxurious. 
A  narrow  shelf  was  strewn  with  some  old  copies 
of  Gil  Bias,  and  on  these  the  costume  was  ex- 
posed to  view.  The  girl  took  it,  and  turned  pale. 
Her  tongue  stuck  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth  for  a 
moment,  but  she  faced  the  woman  steadily. 
I  can't  wear  that,  Madame  Le  Beau,"  she  said. 

^'Comment?  "  exclaimed  the  woman  with  a  start. 
I  can't  wear  it ;  I  wouldn't  put  it  on  !  " 

Madame  Le  Beau  could  storm  in  spite  of 
her  suave  tone — the  capability  was  advertised 
on  her  face — and  Meenie  waited  for  a  tempest 
now.  To  her  surprise  the  cloud  passed ;  the 
frown  that  had  caught  the  heavy  brows  relaxed. 

*'You  not  like  it?  You  find  it  not  modeste  ? 
Verra  veil,  ma  chere  !  All  right — you  shall  ave 
anozzer ! " 

The  answer  was  so  unexpected  that  the  girl 
strove  to  palliate  her  refusal. 

You  see  what  it  is  !  "  she  said  deprecatingly  ; 
I  couldn't  really  !  " 

*'No,  no,  no,  ma  deere — vot  you  pliz !  If 
you  not  like  it,  we  go  to  ze  costumier — you 
shall  shoose  for  yourself.  You  'ave  time,  ees 
it  not?    Ve  go  togezzer  to  la  Rue  de  Provence." 

Not  many  a  manageress  would  have  been 
equally  submissive,  even  in  the  circumstances  ; 

47 


when  Love  Flies 


and  Meenies  gratitude  was  tempered  by  the 
fear  that  the  man  s  deportment  would  surprise 
her  less.  When  they  rejoined  him,  however, 
and  he  heard  where  they  were  going,  he  did 
not  appear  to  demur.  With  a  little  natural 
vanity  she  began  to  feel  that  her  abilities  had 
rendered  them  eager  to  conciliate  her.  Her 
eyes  brightened,  and  for  a  minute  her  mean 
surroundings  brightened  also. 

Outside,  in  the  sunshine,  Madame  Le  Beau 
looked  commoner  still,  she  thought.  Indeed  the 
gross  Frenchwoman  and  the  pale-faced  girl, 
whose  wondering  glances  proclaimed  her  a 
stranger,  made  as  ill  -  assorted  a  pair  as  the 
city  could  show,  as  they  descended  from  Mont- 
martre.  More  than  once  a  head  was  turned 
cynically  to  gaze  after  them  ;  a  lounger  at  one 
of  the  caf6s  they  passed  smiled  to  his  companion 
with  an  expressive  shrug. 

In  la  Rue  de  Provence,  at  a  wardrobe-dealers, 
where  Madame  Le  Beau  was  evidently  on  in- 
timate terms,  they  examined  the  stock.  Afraid 
of  pressing  her  objections  too  far,  Meenie  was 
at  last  forced  to  declare  herself  content  with  a 
burlesque  costume  of  pale  blue  satin.  The 
material  was  creased,  and  the  trimmings  were 
tarnished,  but  she  saw  that  the  skirt  would  reach 

48 


Out  o'  the  Window 


her  knees,  and  that  its  trail  of  pink  roses  could 
be  utilised  to  heighten  the  corsage.  How  much 
was  paid  she  did  not  hear. 

The  parcel  was  awkward  to  carry,  and  she 
was  glad  when  she  arrived  at  Madame  Montjou  s 
door.  There  the  manageress  parted  from  her, 
reminding  her  to  be  at  the  cabaret  at  nine 
o'clock.  Montjou,  who  admitted  her,  inquired 
if  she  would  like  ddjeuner.  Though  ddjeuner 
signified  ''breakfast"  to  her  mind,  she  was  too 
hungry  to  argue  about  a  name.  She  said  We  ! 
We !  and  at  an  untidy  table,  by  which  she 
perceived  that  some  other  lodgers  had  already 
lunched,  she  was  served  with  soup  and  stew. 

Upstairs  the  parcel  was  untied,  and  she  put 
the  costume  on.  She  found  that  she  must  alter 
it ;  so  she  unlocked  her  trunk  again,  and  felt 
for  the  old  night-light  box  that  held  her  needles 
and  cotton.  Fantastically  attired,  and  with  an 
intense  expression,  she  twisted  herself  before 
the  mirror,  considering  her  mode  of  attack.  She 
frowned  deeply,  and  seemed  to  perpend  the  fate 
of  empires.  Presently  the  crisis  passed,  and 
her  brow  cleared  ;  she  had  resolved  to  take  in 
the  bodice  an  inch  each  side  and  to  put  two 
pleats  behind  in  the  band  of  the  skirt. 

After  the  alterations  had  been  successfully 
D  49 


When  Love  Flies 


accomplished,  she  took  out  the  white  shoes  and 
stockings  that  she  had  meant  to  wear  with  her 
own  frock.  She  had  nothing  further  to  do 
except  to  wrap  the  things  up.  Therefore  she 
lay  down  on  the  bed  to  think. 

She  was  roused  by  her  landlords  voice  in- 
forming her  that  dinner  was  ready,  and  awoke 
to  a  dark  room.  She  learnt  to  her  surprise 
that  it  was  past  six.  Her  appetite  at  present 
made  no  demand  on  her  purse,  but  as  a  meal 
might  be  unattainable  later,  she  supposed  she 
would  be  wise  here  to  eat  when  she  was  bidden. 

Two  melancholy  gas-jets  were  now  lighted 
above  the  dirty  cloth,  and  she  found  that  she 
was  to  dine  in  company.  At  the  table  sat  four 
women  in  dressing  -  gowns  ;  another  —  a  pock- 
pitted  blonde,  with  her  hair  in  curling  pins — 
was  clothed  in  a  loosely  buttoned  ulster,  ex- 
posing a  bare  neck.  The  study  afforded  by 
these  five  glutting  women,  with  their  sluggish 
gaze,  their  flaccid  mouths,  and  their  red  and 
check  wrappers,  was  one  of  abandoned  brutalism. 
It  was  difficult  to  realise  that  they  had  thoughts, 
or  vanity,  or  sex ;  it  was  appallingly  difficult 
to  feel  that  their  actions  had  any  psychological 
importance.  Among  themselves  there  was  no 
disguise ;   their   natures   were   unfettered  with 

50 


Out  o'  the  Window 


their  forms.  Pretences  were  for  the  platforms 
where  they  sang ;  their  provocations  would  be 
put  on  with  the  paint.  Here  the  squalor  was 
uncovered — and  one  saw  the  depths. 

The  dressing -jacket  of  the  chorus  girl,  in 
which  she  loves  to  loll  in  her  lodging  till  theatre 
time,  was  a  familiar  sight  to  Meenie ;  the 
spectacle  presented  by  this  salle-a-manger  was 
new  and  horrifying,  and  she  registered  a  vow 
to  escape  from  Madame  Montjous  as  quickly 
as  she  could. 

She  escaped  from  the  salle-a-manger  after  ten 
minutes,  and  mounted  the  black  staircase  again. 
The  bedroom  was  cold  and  dreary,  though  to 
brighten  it  as  much  as  possible  she  lighted  both 
the  candles.  She  intended  to  leave  for  the 
cabaret  early,  lest  she  should  mistake  the  route, 
but  it  would  have  been  useless  to  start  so  soon, 
and  the  time  seemed  very  long  to  her.  By  turns 
she  sat  watching  the  waver  of  the  candles  in  the 
draught,  and  walked  to  and  fro  between  the  bed 
and  the  washhand-stand  to  keep  herself  warm. 
Through  the  panes  of  the  high  window  the 
rattle  of  Paris  stirred  her  with  the  knowledge  of 
where  she  was  ;  and  she  recalled  with  a  shiver 
the  days  of  her  ambition,  when  she  had  pictured 
herself  arriving  in  Paris.    She  had  always  suc- 

51 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


ceeded  before  she  came  here  in  her  dreams. 
The  attic  was  to  have  been  luxury  at  the  Grand 
Hotel ;  and  a  brougham  should  have  been  out- 
side to  drive  her  to  the  Opera  House.  She 
remembered  that  once  she  had  even  thrilled  with 
excitement  in  imagining  hardships  as  an  artist. 
The  hope  deferred,  the  fireless  room,  the  meagre 
salary — they  had  their  fascination  in  biographies  ; 
a  few  chapters  more,  and  one  could  be  confident 
of  salvoes  of  applause!  Who  would  fail  to  be 
brave  for  half  a  volume  ?  Yes,  in  her  girlhood 
even  the  prevision  of  a  scene  like  this — the  mere 
knowledge  that  she  had  the  right  to  call  herself 
a  Professional — would  have  warmed  her  blood. 
How  bleak  the  reality  was !  She  looked  inward, 
and  tried  to  recapture  the  lost  emotions  ;  but  it 
was  quite  in  vain. 

By-and-by  a  clock  struck  eight,  and  she  made 
ready  to  depart.  The  parcel  was  under  her 
arm,  she  left  the  house,  and  turned  towards  the 
lamps  that  lit  the  boulevard.  A  few  yards 
past  the  corner  she  recognised  the  name  over 
a  cafe,  and  hurried  on,  guided  by  the  landmarks 
that  she  had  noted  in  the  morning,  until  the 
door  of  the  cabaret  was  reached. 


52 


CHAPTER  V 


A GLIMPSE  of  the  serried  audience — the 
jingle  of  glasses,  and  the  roar  of  a  refrain. 
She  passed  hastily  to  the  dressing-room.  In  the 
dressing-room  she  was  alone.  Through  the  par- 
tition everything  could  still  be  heard  distinctly — 
the  song,  and  the  piano,  then  the  hubbub,  and 
the  battering  of  hands. 

The  floor  was  bare  excepting  for  a  ragged 
doormat ;  the  single  chair  had  a  torn  seat.  She 
had  often  been  nervous,  but  never  till  now  had 
she  known  the  nausea  of  nervousness.  The 
absence  of  a  dresser  added  to  her  distress,  and 
the  hooks  and  eyes  in  her  shaking  fingers  evaded 
one  another  so  persistently  that  she  was  afraid 
she  would  not  be  ready  in  time. 

At  last,  when  the  costume  was  fastened,  she 
sank  onto  the  torn  seat  again,  and  waited, 
according  to  orders,  till  she  was  called.  Since 
she  entered,  three  vocalists  had  been  announced, 
and  nobody  had  disturbed  her ;  she  wondered 
what  had  become  of  them,  and  concluded  that 
there  must  be  a  second  dressing-room  which  she 

53 


when  Love  Flies 


hadn't  seen.  Smitten  by  the  sick  fear  that  she 
would  forget  the  words  she  had  to  sing,  she  sat 
reciting  them  under  her  breath.  With  clasped 
hands,  and  her  lips  moving  mutely,  she  seemed 
to  be  in  prayer. 

Now  another  turn  finished.  The  babel  broke 
out  once  more,  and  she  listened  dizzily  to  catch 
what  followed.  Monsieur  Le  Beaus  voice  rose 
out  of  the  din  :  Mesdames  et  messieurs,  j  ai 
rhonneur  de  vous  annoncer  que  Mad  moiselle 
Meenie  Veston  

Her  name  struck  a  blow  on  her  heart,  and  the 
rest  was  lost.  She  sprang  up  and  moved  towards 
the  door  with  tremulous  knees.  It  had  already 
opened  ;  she  saw  beyond  it  through  a  mist. 

The  cabaret  was  a  blur  of  faces.  As  the 
shrunken  pianist  rattled  the  introductory  bars, 
she  dropped  her  gaze  to  the  platform  to  steady 
herself  Since  there  were  no  footlights,  she  had 
neither  darkened  her  eyelashes,  nor  rouged  her 
cheeks  ;  her  pallor  and  the  timidity  of  her  pose 
made  her  an  unusual  figure.  The  note  came, 
and  she  began  : — 

A  sailor  went  to  Kiralfy's  fair. 
And  fell  in  love  with  a  side-show  there : 
A  mermaid  flaunting  her  amber  hair — 
She  was  labelled  an  *  Illusion.' 


54 


Out  o'  the  Window 

Her  lips  were  ripe,  and  her  glance  was  gay — 
He  longed  to  kneel  at  her  feet  all  day ; 
But  mermaids  come,  as  I  needn^t  say, 
To  a  different  conclusion. 

Entirely  false  conclusion ! 

To  see  it  turned  him  pale ; 

He  marked  with  agitation 

The  lady's  termination, 

Oh  the  painful  termination  of  the  Tail ! 

There  was  a  general  murmur  and  some  tepid 
encouragement,  though  few  there  understood 
what  she  was  singing  about.  Her  self-command 
was  creeping  back  to  her,  and  the  scene  had 
grown  clearer ;  through  the  smoke  that  curled 
to  her  nostrils  and  her  mouth  she  could  dis- 
tinguish features  now.  Suddenly,  with  a  little 
gasp,  she  perceived  why  none  of  the  women  had 
returned  to  the  dressing-room ;  she  saw  them, 
tawdry  and  tinselled,  among  the  crowd,  drinking 
at  the  tables.    The  note  came — 

"  Before  her  tank,  with  enamoured  sighs. 
The  tar  looked  long  in  the  mermaid's  eyes ; 
Her  feeling  first  was  a  cold  surprise, 

Then  mer-maidenly  confusion. 
She  learnt  to  find  his  devotion  dear. 
And  ev'ry  day  he  would  reappear ; 
He  felt  he'd  part  with  a  hemisphere 
For  to  wed  that  fair  *  Illusion.' 

55 


When  Love  Flies 


That  golden-haired  *  Illusion ' ! 

She  filled  his  honest  life ; 

Old  joys  were  dust  and  ashes, 

He  shunned  his  former  mashes, 

And  he  pined  to  win  the  mermaid  for  his  wife." 

She  observed  one  of  the  men  put  his  arm 
round  a  singer's  neck.  The  woman  took  a  whiff 
of  his  cigarette,  and  smiled.  In  the  alcove  of 
bottles,  the  manageress  was  regarding  them  im- 
passively. A  terror  that  had  no  affinity  to  stage- 
fright  gripped  the  girl,  and  the  room  swam  in  hot 
haze.  She  resolved  not  to  stop  here  ;  she  would 
demand  to  be  released !  Almost  at  the  same 
instant  she  recollected  that  she  would  forfeit  the 
homeward  fare,  and  asked  herself,  dismayed,  how 
she  could  return.  But  she  wouldn't  stop  ;  no,  what- 
ever happened,  she  wouldn't  stop.  The  note  came— 

"  Then  once  she  crept  to  his  startled  view ; 
She'd  shed  her  tail — and  her  tresses  too. 
Her  hair  was  false,  but  her  heart  was  true. 

And  anticipation  thrilled  her, 
O  fatal  day  !  but  he  called  her  *  plain,' 
And  never  came  to  the  tank  again. 
She  watched  for  seventeen  years  in  vain — 

Then  her  wounded  feelings  killed  her. 

That  poor  '  Illusion's  '  fate,  Love, 
A  warning  should  extend  : 
When  Man's  infatuated. 
To  keep  him  fascinated — 
Why,  remain  a  Fair  Illusion  to  the  end  ! " 
56 


Out  o'  the  Window 


The  plaudits  had  an  ironic  sound  to  her  ears 
as  she  left  the  platform  and  hurried  to  the 
privacy  of  the  dressing-room.  The  thought  of 
completing  her  programme  appalled  her,  and  in 
a  frightened  way  she  considered  the  practicability 
of  repudiating  her  agreement  at  once.  She  sus- 
pected Mr.  Hughes'  good  faith  now,  and  nursed 
her  courage  to  declare  that  she  had  been  induced 
to  sign  the  contract  by  false  pretences.  If  the 
fare  to  England  were  unobtainable  in  the  circum- 
stances ?  Always  at  this  point  her  cogita- 
tions stumbled  lamely.  If  the  fare  were  unobtain- 
able, what  should  she  do  ? 

"  '  A  fair  old  frisky, 
Put-away-the-whisky, 
Good  old  time  we  had  ! '  " 

Another  English  turn  was  in  progress.  After 
what  she  had  seen,  she  understood  that  solitude 
would  not  be  permitted  her  for  long ;  yet  it  was 
with  a  shock  that  she  heard  the  handle  jerked. 
Madame  Le  Beau  s  bulk  filled  the  doorway.  With 
her  evening  black,  and  her  watch-chain,  and  the 
little  sticky  curls  flattened  on  her  temples,  she 
had  acquired  a  more  masterful  air.  Even  her 
bosom  seemed  to  domineer  now,  and  bulged 
authoritatively. 

''Vot  for  you  stay  ere?"  she  said,  as  Meenie 
57 


when  Love  Flies 


rose.  It  ees  ze  'abit  of  ze  artistes  to  seet  at 
ze  tables,  and  to  collect  money  in  ze  shells.  You 
find  it  also  more  gay  !    Go  in,  ma  chere  ! 

I  want  to  speak  to  you,  Madame  Le  Beau," 
said  Meenie. 

'*You  speak  presently;  now  you  go  in!  And 
you  make  yourself  agreeable  ;  and  you  say  you 
ave  thirst — you  find  always  someone  to  pay.  It 
ees  necessary  'ere,  because  we  charge  nozzing  for 
ze  admission,  zat  ze  people  drink  plenty,  you 
understand  ?  Ze  more  you  drink,  ze  better  I 
like  your  voice.  And  you  can  ave  'unger. 
Make  aste!'' 

I  must  speak  now  !  I  want  you  to  release  me, 
please;  Tm  not  willing  to  fulfil  the  engagement." 

Comment  ?  You  are  not  '  veeling '  ? "  The 
amazement  was  a  trifle  overdone  ;  she  folded  her 
arms  with  a  large  gesture.      Vot  you  mean  }  " 

I  didn't  know  what  kind  of  engagement  it 
was.  Mr.  Hughes  never  told  me — he  told  me 
it  was  for  concerts.  I  don't  know  whether  he 
deceived  me  on  purpose  or  not,  but  I  hadn't  the 
least  idea  what  I  was  coming  to.  I've  never 
been  in  a  place  like  this ;  I  couldn't  stay  in  it — 
you  must  let  me  go." 

'Oo  you  zink  you  talk  to  ?  "  cried  the  woman 
angrily;  ''a  place  like  zis  ?    What  'ave  you  to 

58 


Out  o'  the  Window 


say  about  ze  place  ?  It  ees  a  respectable  place, 
ees  it  not  ?  You  'ave  sign  an  agreement,  ees  it 
not  ?  You  do  your  business,  and  'old  your  tongue, 
or  you  get  in  trouble." 

^'  I  ask  you  to  let  me  off,"  muttered  Meenie. 

*^You  zink  you  take  my  money  for  nozzing, 
yes  ?    You  must  be  a  fool ! " 

I  will  send  you  the  money  as  soon  as  I  earn 
it — I  swear  I  will!  You  must  know  that  I 
oughtn't  to  have  come ;  you  must  see  that  there 
has  been  a  mistake !  Oh,  Madame  Le  Beau,  you 
won't  be  so  wicked  as  to  keep  me  here  ?  " 

Asses y  asses,  assez!''  She  pointed  peremp- 
torily to  the  door.  You  are  a  girl  who  always 
refuses,  yes  ?  Zis  morning  you  refuse  ze  costume, 
zis  evening  you  refuse  to  remain.  Listen ! " 
Her  voice  rose  violently.  ''You  are  ze  servant 
ere,  you  understand  ?  You  ave  sign  an  agree- 
ment, and  you  do  what  you  are  told,  or  I  show 
you  ze  law.  You  go  in,  and  you  seet  at  a  table, 
and  when  ze  gentlemen  speak  to  you,  you  say, 
'  Payez  moi  un  bock,  yes  ? '  And  you  drink  it 
quick  !    Chut !    You  go  !  " 

''I  won't!"  said  Meenie,  trembling.  ''You 
may  make  me  sing,  but  you  can't  make  me  do 
that.  I  won't  go  in  till  it's  time  for  my  next 
song." 

59 


When  Love  Flies 


There  was  a  sickening  instant  in  which  she 
thought  she  was  going  to  receive  a  blow,  but 
the  fat  arm  fell  again.  For  a  few  seconds  the 
woman  stood  lowering  at  her  ;  then,  with  a  shrug, 
she  said — 

Alors,  you  sing!  And  you  make  no  more 
disturbance,  because  you  ave  no  right ;  you  ave 
nozzing  to  say.  You  understand,  ma  belle  de- 
moiselle ?  You  have  nozzing  to  say !  I  ave 
ze  law ;  eef  you  disobey  me,  you  shall  be  punish. 
Pah ! "  She  snapped  her  fingers  in  the  girls 
face,  and  left  her  to  realise  the  position. 

The  girl's  first  step  towards  doing  so  was  to 
burst  into  tears.  Being  a  sensible  girl,  though 
she  was  an  inexperienced  one,  she  dried  them 
very  soon,  and  decided  to  take  the  only  course 
that  was  open  to  her  now,  namely,  to  break  her 
contract  as  soon  as  she  had  the  means  to  reach 
London. 

She  knew  the  sum  she  required.  Her  ticket 
had  cost  eighteen  shillings  and  sevenpence,  and 
she  determined  that  the  surplus  from  her  second 
week  s  salary  should  amount  to  as  much  as  that  if 
she  had  to  live  on  milk  and  rolls  in  the  meanwhile. 
She  must  resign  herself  to  remaining  for  a  fort- 
night. She  formed  her  plans  deliberately.  Next 
Wednesday,  when  Madame  Montjou  presented 

60 


Out  o'  the  Window 


the  bill,  she  would  give  her  a  weeks  notice.  It 
would  not  be  wise  to  tell  her  that  she  was  leaving 
Paris  ;  she  would  merely  say  that  she  was  leaving 
the  house.  Then,  on  the  evening  when  she  was 
paid  fifty  francs,  she  would  walk  out  of  the 
cabaret  for  the  last  time.  When  her  desertion 
was  discovered  she  would  be  in  England. 

It  was  quite  simple.  The  only  blots  on  the 
scheme  that  she  could  see  were  the  enforced 
delay  and  the  parsimony  that  she  must  practise 
in  order  to  save  the  money.  The  latter  defect 
she  faced  cheerfully,  and  the  former  she  told  her- 
self she  must  bear  as  best  she  could.  At  all 
events,  since  she  had  gained  her  point,  and  was 
to  be  allowed  the  privilege  of  withdrawing  be- 
tween her  turns,  the  worst  feature  of  the  engage- 
ment was  averted.  She  recovered  her  composure 
in  view  of  this  definite  prospect  of  escape,  and 
when  she  was  recalled  to  the  platform  she  entered 
more  firmly. 

She  was  greeted  by  a  buzz  and  prolonged 
stares.  She  had  sung  too  ill  to  attribute  them  to 
pleasurable  anticipation,  and  she  understood  that 
her  retirement  had  been  noticed,  and  commented 
on.  At  the  end  of  Allerseelen,''  however,  there 
was  spontaneous  applause,  and  a  knot  of  men, 
wearing  strange  hats  and  masses  of  unkempt 

6i 


when  Love  Flies 


hair,  demanded  its  repetition.  Their  cry  was 
taken  up,  and  the  manager,  lifting  his  heavy 
eyelids  to  her,  nodded  his  head. 

So  by  command  of  the  crowd  she  sang  Aller- 
seelen again,  and  now  rendered  it  as  well  as  she 
was  able.  She  was  not  a  great  singer,  but  her 
voice  was  the  purest,  and  by  far  the  best-trained, 
that  had  ever  been  heard  between  the  smutched 
walls.  This  time  she  forgot  the  incongruity  of  a 
blue  satin  costume  and  pink  roses  to  the  lyric, 
and  saw  the  grave  that  she  was  singing  of.  The 
absinthiated  mind  of  the  dreamer  at  the  piano 
awoke  and  responded  to  the  rare  call  of  an 
impassioned  voice,  and  he,  too,  did  his  best ;  he, 
too,  saw  a  grave — where  lay  all  the  ambition, 
and  the  opportunities,  and  the  worthiness  that  he 
had  left  behind. 

She  was  a  success.  Madame  Le  Beau  herself 
regarded  her  with  less  disfavour  as  she  passed, 
and  when  she  came  back  for  the  song  from  The 
Fair  Fakir  she  was  welcomed  as  a  favourite. 

It  was  nearly  one  o'clock  when  she  was  ready 
to  leave,  and  she  feared  that,  in  spite  of  her  little 
triumph,  she  would  now  be  subjected  to  intimida- 
tion from  the  woman  and  her  husband  together. 
To  her  relief,  they  watched  her  go  by  without 
hindering  her ;  the  man  even  favoured  her  with 

62 


Out  o'  the  Window 


a  listless  wave  of  the  hand.  Somebody  among 
a  group  of  loungers  on  the  pavement  addressed 
her  as  she  went  out,  and  followed  for  a  few  yards, 
she  thought.  That  was  nothing ;  that  was  only 
as  if  she  had  been  leaving  a  stage-door  again  in 
England.  When  she  had  toiled  up  the  stairs, 
and  turned  the  key,  the  room  on  the  fourth 
floor  looked  a  haven  of  rest  to  her.  But  she 
reproached  herself  for  selfishness  in  wishing 
that  she  had  Miss  Joyces  companionship  and 
counsel. 


63 


CHAPTER  VI 


AITHFUL  to  her  project,  she  commenced 


X  next  day  a  regimen  which  permitted  no 
misgivings.  In  London  she  could  have  ventured 
upon  considerably  better  fare  with  the  means  at 
her  disposal,  but  in  Paris,  and  in  new  lodgings, 
she  did  not  know  to  what  extent  she  might  be 
cheated.  She  elected,  therefore,  to  allow  a  wide 
margin  for  dishonesty,  and  to  reduce  her  meals 
to  the  slenderest  proportions. 

The  afternoon  was  fine,  and  she  was  tempted 
to  explore  Paris,  which  was  an  unwise  proceed- 
ing, because  it  gave  her  an  appetite.  Her 
wanderings,  however,  brought  her  to  the  grands 
boulevards  and  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  and 
this,  her  real  introduction  to  Paris,  so  enraptured 
her  that  she  promised  herself  a  similar  excur- 
sion daily.  The  cabaret  held  no  developments. 
Madame  Le  Beau  eyed  her  glumly,  and  the 
manager,  fingering  his  tiny  moustache,  accorded 
her  a  slow,  surreptitious  smile.  As  before,  she 
sang,  and  saw,  and  wished  herself  away ;  as 
before,  she  reached  home  tired  and  disgusted. 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


Two  evenings  over  ! "  she  murmured,  as  she 
got  into  bed. 

In  any  other  circumstances  than  those  which 
were  responsible  for  her  resolve  she  would  have 
reflected  that  it  was  better  to  bear  the  ills  she 
had  than  fly  to  those  which  awaited  her  return. 
As  it  was,  she  couldn't  hesitate.  On  any  night 
the  exemption  granted  her  might  be  rescinded  ; 
sooner  or  later,  her  common  sense  told  her,  it 
was  sure  to  be.  She  recalled  with  increased 
astonishment  Madame  Le  Beaus  compliance  in 
the  matter  of  the  costume.  It  was  extraordinary 
that  she  had  been  so  meek,  the  woman  who  had 
been  so  brutal  a  few  hours  later !  Perhaps  she 
had  been  drinking  in  the  interval,  and  grown 
morose  ?  But  the  question  was  insoluble,  and 
the  girl  abandoned  it. 

On  Friday  she  discovered  the  gardens  of  the 
Tuileries,  and  sauntered  there  till  dusk  began  to 
gather.  When  she  made  her  way  back,  the 
lamps  were  shining,  and  the  allurements  of  the 
restaurants  stabbed  her  with  familiar  pangs. 
She  was  pursuing  a  line  of  action  which  few 
men  would  have  the  fortitude  to  sustain,  for  it 
entailed  inconveniences  that  she  had  overlooked 
— one  of  them  keener  to  her  than  semi-starva- 
tion— it  necessitated  her  exposing  herself  to  the 
E  65 


when  Love  Flies 


curiosity  and  contempt  of  the  asthmatic  crone 
and  Montjou.  Many  people  starve  in  Paris,  as 
elsewhere  ;  but  here  was  an  eccentric  —  an 
Englishwoman  with  a  salary,  and  credit,  who 
was  too  mean  to  eat  meat !  Ten  francs  in  her 
pocket  would  have  spared  her  this  indignity ; 
she  could  have  appeased  her  hunger  outside. 
Moneyless,  she  was  forced  to  exhibit  her  economy 
and  to  endure  their  astonishment. 

An  additional  embarrassment  lay  in  the  fact 
that  the  mans  acquaintance  with  English  had 
proved  to  be  hardly  more  extensive  than 
her  own  knowledge  of  French.  She  could 
neither  offer  an  excuse  for  not  descending  to 
the  dining-room,  nor  order  what  she  wished  up- 
stairs. Sometimes,  indeed,  since  he  had  found 
that  the  table  d'hote  was  not  to  profit  by  her 
presence,  she  thought  that  he  affected  to  under- 
stand even  less  than  he  could. 

She  was  living  principally  upon  eggs  and  soup, 
lunching  and  dining  in  view  of  the  red-draped 
bed  which  was  never  made  until  she  had  gone 
to  the  cabaret.  Her  avoidance  of  the  salle-a- 
manger  kept  her  aloof  from  the  women  whom 
she  had  shuddered  at  on  her  first  evening,  but 
her  observations  from  the  platform  had  shown 
her  two  of  them  among  her  fellow-singers.  She 

66 


Out  o'  the  Window 


wondered  if  it  was  one  of  these  who  bawled 
the  English  words  that  she  could  hear  from  the 
dressing-room. 

As  she  was  passing  to  it  after  her  second  song 
on  Friday  night,  a  man  plucked  at  her  skirt, 
holding  up  a  glass,  and  saying  something  at 
which  his  neighbours  burst  out  laughing.  She 
saw  that  the  two  women  seemed  to  enjoy  her 
discomfiture  more  than  anybody  else,  and  they 
continued  to  laugh  shrilly  after  she  had  drawn 
herself  free.  In  about  half  an  hour  one  of  them 
joined  her.  It  was  the  first  time  that  any  of 
the  '^artists"  had  entered  the  dressing-room 
while  she  was  there. 

The  woman  dusted  her  face  with  a  powder- 
puff  before  the  cracked  looking-glass  under  the 
gas-burner ;  and  having  cast  one  or  two  sidelong 
glances  at  the  girl,  said  thickly — 

'''Ow  is  it  you  aint  with  your  royal  mother 
at  Windsor,  my  dear  ?  Won't  she  ave  you  ? " 
She  was  the  blonde,  who  had  worn  the  brown 
ulster  and  the  curling-pins.  Under  her  make-up 
the  pock-marks  were  scarcely  visible. 
What  ?"  said  Meenie. 

'''Ow  are  all  the  other  princesses?  Did  you 
leave  'em  quite  well  ?  I  feel  proud  to  powder 
my  nose  in  your  'Ighnesss  company.  I  hope 
your  'Ighness  don't  object?" 

67 


when  Love  Flies 


To  this  delicate  badinage  the  girl  returned 
no  answer ;  and  the  woman,  crossing  her  hands 
over  her  breast,  and  casting  her  eyes  down, 
simpered — 

Don't  look  at  me — Tm  so  shy!  "  The  next 
moment  she  abandoned  derision  for  abuse  with 
savage  swiftness.  'Oo  are  you?''  she  demanded ; 
*'youVe  putting  on  a  good  deal  o'  side,  ain't  you  ? 
'Oo  are  you^  sitting  here  by  yourself  as  if  you 
was  a  star  ?  Gordstrewth !  You're  too  big  a 
swell  to  obey  rules,  I  suppose?  'Oo  are  you, 
to  do  as  you  like,  eh  ?  " 

I'm  not  doing  as  I  like,"  said  Meenie,  ''or  I 
shouldn't  be  here  listening  to  you." 

What's  good  enough  for  one  is  good  enough 
for  all,  ain't  it.'^  Why  should  Madame  favour 
you  ?  Airs  and  graces  make  me  sick,  djear  ? 
There's  no  side  about  me.  Don't  think  I  envy 
you,  sitting  in  this  hole  by  yourself — you  must 
be  a  precious  fool.  What  gives  me  the  needle 
is  differences  being  made.  Differences  make 
me  sick,  djear?    Fairs  fair." 

"  I  was  told  to  sit  in  there,  and  I  refused  to 
do  it.    Unless  I'm  dragged  in,  I  wont  do  it !  " 

Refused  to   do   it  ? "   echoed   the  woman. 
Refused  Madame?    Did  you?"   The  statement 
appeared  to  mollify  her.     ''Well,  you've  got  a 

68 


Out  o'  the  Window 


bit  of  pluck,  for  all  you  look  so  soft !  I  like 
you.  It  isn't  often  I  tike  a  fancy  to  a  girl, 
but  I  like  you.  And  ain't  we  both  English, 
among  this  beastly  lot  o'  French  frogs?''  She 
was  suddenly  affectionate.  The  minute  I 
clapped  eyes  on  you  I  knew  we  was  going 
to  be  pals.  You  stick  to  it,  my  dear,  and 
don't  let  'er  bully  you.  She'll  try!  Oh,  I 
know  'er — she'll  try  !  And  she's  up  to  all  manner 
o'  dodges  for  driving  the  girls  in.  /  don't 
interfere — what's  it  to  do  with  me? — but  I  like 
you.  I  never  said  a  word  to  'urt  your  feelings, 
did  I,  my  dear,  whatever  the  others  may  'ave 
done  ?  A  lot  o'  toads !  Have  another  drink, 
my  dear ! " 

Meenie  got  up,  and  moved  about  the  little  room 
restlessly,  longing  for  her  to  go,  but  so  far  from 
taking  the  hint,  she  took  the  vacant  chair. 

Ain't  we  both  English,  you  and  me?"  she 
repeated.  *'And  that's  what  I  said  when  they 
run  you  down!  '  She's  English,  like  me,'  I  said, 
'and  no  one  says  a  word  against  'er  in  my 
'earing.  Britons  never  shall  be  slives,'  I  said, 
'  Madame  or  no  Madame ! '  It's  more'n  three 
years  since  /  saw  the  good  old  Strand,  my  dear ; 
Lord  knows  'ow  long  it'll  be  before  I  see  it 
again!    Lord  knows!  I  often  think  of  it,  I  can 

69 


when  Love  Flies 


tell  you  —  these  ere  bocks  are  no  earthly. 
London's  my  ome — I  was  brought  up  in  London. 
I  was !  I  ain't  kidding  you — I  was  brought  up 
in  London  ;  my  mother  ad  a  'ouse  in  Stamford 
Street.  And  a  good  mother,  too — nobody  says 
a  word  against  mother  in  my  earing — a  good, 
open-earted  woman.  If  it  hadn't  ha'  been  for 
the  drink,  she'd  never  'ave  got  in  trouble,  and 
I  wouldn't  have  took  to  the  stige.  Ah,  life's 
a  'ell  of  a  job — a  'ell  of  a  job !  Don't  mind 
me,  my  dear — I've  got  the  'ump  to-night; 
meeting  a  friend — English,  like  me — it  upsets 
me,  and  everything's  so  sad !  "  She  rested  her 
head  on  the  shelf,  and  wept. 

Presently  she  roused  herself  with  a  start,  and 
after  a  hasty  application  of  the  powder-puff, 
returned  to  her  duties.  Meenie  was  disturbed 
no  more.  These  incidents  were  the  only  new 
features  of  Friday  night.  Before  she  fell  asleep, 
she  said,  ''Three  evenings  over!"  and  thanked 
God. 

On  Sunday  morning  she  went  to  Service  at 
Notre  Dame,  arriving  there  by  means  of  a 
succession  of  humiliatino"  little  duoloo;"ues  which 
she  strove  vainly  to  curtail. 

Pardon !  Ou  est  Notre  Dame,  s'il  vous 
plait  ?  " 

70 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Comment  ?  " 

Notre  Dame  ?  " 
"  Comment  ? 

Notre  Dame  ? 
^^Ah— h!  Notre  Dame 

On  Sunday  evening  she  sang  as  usual  at  the 
cabaret.  Monday  was  a  red-letter  day  to  her, 
for  it  marked  another  week — the  following  night 
her  salary  would  be  due.  Her  routine  was 
nearly  always  the  same.  The  late  breakfast, 
the  basin  of  soup,  and  then  the  ramble  about 
the  city,  to  linger  on  the  bridges,  wondering 
at  the  brightness  of  the  Seine,  to  lose  herself 
in  strange  byways,  and  emerge  into  new  scenes 
of  splendour.  She  stood  on  the  steps  of  the 
Opera  House,  and  marvelled  at  the  audacity 
of  her  girlish  hopes  ;  she  stumbled  on  unexpected 
market-places,  where  Paris  burst  suddenly  into 
flower ;  she  was  fascinated  by  the  dignity  of 
surprising  stalls  where  old  volumes  in  their 
hundreds  aired  their  decrepitude  in  the  sunshine 
of  the  quay. 

Her  salary  was  not  forthcoming  on  Tuesday 
night,  but  with  Wednesday  came  her  bill.  She 
opened  it  confidently — it  was  to  be  the  certificate 
of  perseverance,  her  reward  for  many  sternly  re- 
pressed temptations.    When  she  had  deciphered 

71 


when  Love  Flies 


the  total,  her  first  idea  was  that  she  must  be 
making  a  mistake.  She  scrutinised  the  figures 
again.  Was  it  possible — it  couldn't  be  possible — 
that  they  meant  thirty-nine  francs,  and  something 
over?  The  warmth  began  to  leave  her  cheeks, 
and  she  could  feel  her  heart  beating. 

It  was  no  use  deceiving  herself  Her  bill  was 
more  than  fourteen  francs  in  excess  of  the  sum 
due  to  her.  But  how  could  it  be  ?  She  puzzled 
over  the  items  ;  the  smallest  was  a  word  begin- 
ning with  an  S  ;  that  cost  one  franc.  At  last 
she  made  the  word  out  to  be  ''savon" — she  knew 
that  savon  meant  soap.''  Soap,  tenpence  ! 
Why  strain  her  eyes  over  the  hieroglyphics  any 
more.^  After  ''Soap,  tenpence,"  anything  was 
possible — even  candles  costing  a  half-crown ! 

She  lay  back  on  the  pillow  faintly.  Then,  in 
spite  of  all  her  self-denial,  there  wouldn't  be 
sufficient  surplus  from  her  salary  next  week  to 
take  her  home !  Sufficient  ?  She  realised  an 
instant  later  that  there  wouldn't  be  any.  Assum- 
ing that  the  next  week's  bill  was  the  same  as 
this  one,  she  would  still  be  in  her  landlady's  debt. 
Her  plan  was  ruined,  crushed ! 

She  felt  too  sick  to  attempt  a  remonstrance 
with  the  brute  downstairs  yet ;  she  was  glad  to 
remind  herself  that  it  was  no  use  trying  to  say 

72 


Out  o'  the  Window 


anything  until  Madame  Le  Beau  had  paid  her. 
Besides,  how  could  she  talk  to  him  ?  No,  she 
must  submit  to  the  inevitable.  All  at  once  the 
prospect  of  escape  from  the  Cabaret  de  F Homme 
was  vague ! 

But  thrift  had  been  easier  to  practise  than  was 
philosophy.  The  check  was  bitter.  She  ques- 
tioned, bewildered,  how  much  these  people  would 
have  had  the  brazenness  to  charge  her  if  she  had 
indulged  in  ordinary  fare.  The  Grand  Hotel 
would  have  been  cheaper  then,  perhaps  ?  Or 
perhaps  they  would  have  boarded  her  for  no 
more  than  they  had  charged  her  now  ?  The  last 
reflection  shook  her  painfully  ;  it  might  be  that 
she  could  have  had  enough  to  eat  for  the  same 
money ! 

When  she  rose  she  saw  that  the  day  was  wet. 
By-and-by  the  man  Montjou  brought  in  her  soup, 
and  put  down  the  tray  with  the  indefinable  in- 
solence of  manner  which  she  always  strove  to 
persuade  herself  existed  only  in  her  fancy.  When 
she  had  lunched  she  sat  at  the  window,  gazing  at 
the  blur  of  rain  till  egg-time. 

The  hours  were  very  dreary  ;  her  experience 
of  loneliness  in  lodgings  held  no  more  dismal 
picture.  With  the  extinction  of  courage  her  out- 
look had  been  plunged  in  gloom,  and  she  was  a 

73 


when  Love  Flies 


prey  to  the  mood  in  which  one  questions  what 
justification  one  has  in  hoping  for  anything. 
Hope?  Her  father  had  been  hopeful  almost  to 
the  last !  The  practice  had  declined  and  died 
while  he  hoped ;  hope  deluded  him  until  all 
chance  of  finding  a  purchaser  or  a  partner  had 
been  lost.  She  remembered  that  in  a  rare  burst 
of  bitterness  he  had  once  said  to  her,  My  life 
has  been  passed  in  hoping,  and  IVe  never 
reached  one  of  the  things  I  hoped  for.  Hope 
is  incipient  hallucination — in  the  next  stage  one 
believes  oneself  to  be  Isaac  Newton  or  Julius 
Caesar,  and  has  to  be  put  under  restraint.'' 

For  herself  what  ?  When  she  entered  on  her 
first  engagement  she  had  still  expected  to  attain 
something  better.  Not  Isolde — she  had  been 
awakened  from  that  dream — but  light  parts  of 
distinction.  Now  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  voice 
was  the  last  qualification  necessary  on  the  comic 
opera  stage.  She  had  been  in  the  chorus  with 
women  who  could  not  sing  a  note  ;  she  had  met 
women  who  had  left  the  Academy  or  the  Guild- 
hall to  conquer  London,  and  they,  too,  were  in 
the  chorus,  their  medals  preserved,  but  their  con- 
fidence long  lost.  With  interest  to  provide  her 
with  a  chance,  she  would  have  emerged  from 
the  ruck,  and  made  some  little  reputation,  she 

74 


Out  o'  the  Window 


thought ;  without  it  she  would  belong  to  this 
heterogeneous  crowd  for  life.  A  unit  among  the 
ambitious  and  the  apathetic,  the  gifted  and  the 
incompetent,  the  refined  and  the  vulgar,  the 
virtuous  and  the  immoral — the  chorus — that  was 
her  lot !  Never  to  scramble  any  higher ;  to 
count  herself  blessed  when  a  tour  lasted  four 
months  ;  to  be  like  a  girl  she  had  known  in  the 
Stratford  pantomime,  who  lived  in  Camberwell, 
and  reached  Liverpool  Street  every  night  after 
the  last  'bus  had  gone.  It  was  a  long  walk — 
she  got  home  about  half-past  two.  And  three 
mornings  in  the  week  she  had  to  be  back  in  time 
for  the  matinee  ;  during  the  evening  performance 
she  could  scarcely  bear  the  pressure  of  her 
spangled  shoes,  and  used  to  peel  them  off  after  the 
processions,  and  cry.  Her  name  was  forgotten. 
What  did  ft  matter  ? — Legion  ! 

At  nine  o'clock  the  cabaret  once  more.  The 
scowl  of  the  sensual  woman ;  the  leer  of  the 
sensual  man;  the  artists" — how  did  they  find 
that  word  ? — in  their  tawdry  satins  ;  the  unin- 
telligible shouts,  the  rattle  of  the  glasses,  and 
the  hot  dense  fumes  of  tobacco.  All  this  through 
hopeless  eyes,  all  this  while  her  mind  reiterated 
that  her  plan  was  spoilt. 

Her  salary  was  not  sent  in  to  her.  Before  she 
75 


when  Love  Flies 


left,  she  lingered  at  the  bar  and  asked  for  it. 
The  cabaret  was  nearly  empty ;  Isidore  and 
Marie  bent  their  heads  together  at  the  till. 

''Could  you  let  me  have  my  salary?''  she 
murmured. 

Le  Beau  flicked  the  ash  from  his  cigarette 
and  lounged  away.  The  woman  stared  at  her 
silently. 

She  repeated  :  ''  My  salary — the  twenty-five 
francs." 

''  Your  salary  ?  Vot  you  mean  ?  I  do  not 
understand.'' 

"  You  don't  understand  ?  " 

"  But  no ;  'ow  your  salary  ?  I  pay  for  ze 
costume  a  'undred  and  fifty  francs.  Enfin,  when 
you  'ave  earnt  so  much,  you  ask  for  salary." 

You're  going  to  charge  me  for  the  costume  ?  " 
stammered  Meenie. 

Vot  you  zink,  you  zink  I  buy  it  you  for 
love?    Allez-vous-en ;  I  am  busy!" 

Madame  Le  Beau,  I  must  have  my  money ! 
I've  my  bill  to  pay;  I  haven't  a  penny,  I  can't 
go  on  without  money.  I've  never  had  to  pay 
for  a  costume  in  any  engagement  I've  been  in  ; 
it  isn't  usual — the  thinor  is  unheard  of! " 

o 

Madame  Le  Beau  lifted  her  fat  shoulders 
almost  to  her  ears. 

76 


Out  o'  the  Window 


It  ees  ze  rule  'ere.  Eef  a  girl  ees  not  con- 
tent to  wear  ze  costume  I  offer,  a/ors^  she  pay 
for  anozzer !    She  ees  a  fool,  but  zat  ees  all." 

''I  see,"  said  Meenie  slowly,  ''I  see  now." 
Her  desperation  drove  her  to  a  last  appeal. 

Then  draw  a  little  off  the  salary  each  week. 
If  you  stop  the  whole  of  it,  I  shall  starve." 

''Zat  ees  not  my  affair.  I  owe  you  nozzing  ; 
you  owe  to  me  !  And  you  need  not  starve  !  .  .  . 
I  ave  told  you  'ow  to  get  rafratchissements  at  ze 
tables,  but  you  would  not.  Aha!  .  .  .  zink  it 
over,  ma  chere ;  you  see  I  ave  advise  you  for 
ze  best." 

She  nodded  triumphantly,  and  turned  her  back. 
After  a  moment  the  girl  passed  out. 


77 


CHAPTER  VII 


w 


ELL?  .  .  .  What  was  going  to  happen? 
She  was  liable  to  be  turned  out  of  her 
lodging  at  a  moment  s  notice.  She  entered  the 
house,  quaking  with  the  thought  that  a  settle- 
ment might  be  demanded  of  her  in  the  passage. 
This  did  not  occur,  however ;  nobody  saw  her 
come  in.  She  had  been  furnished  with  a  key  by 
now,  and  she  stole  up  the  stairs  on  tiptoe. 

What  was  going  to  happen  ?  She  sat  asking 
herself  the  question  in  a  kind  of  stupor.  She 
asked  herself  why  she  should  continue  to  endure 
the  cabaret,  since  she  was  to  receive  no  pay- 
ment ;  but  the  answer  was  that  Madame  Le 
Beau  could  summon  her  if  she  didn't.  How 
long  would  these  people  wait  ?  At  the  most 
another  week,  she  supposed.  And  then  ?  She 
would  have  no  money  then  ;  it  would  be  three 
weeks  before  she  had  any.  What  was  to 
become  of  her  when  their  patience  was  ex- 
hausted ?  She  must  move,  and  live  on  credit 
again.  But  would  they  let  her  take  her 
trunk  ?  .  .  . 

78 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


If  she  gave  the  Le  Beau  couple  cause  for 
summoning  her,  her  dilemma  would  be  revealed 
to  a  magistrate ;  it  would  be  the  best  thing  she 
could  do.  But  their  action  was  indefensible — 
they  would  be  afraid  to  summon  her.  .  .  .  Then 
she  need  not  go  back  to  the  cabaret,  after  all  ? 
Ah,  but  if  she  defied  them,  they  would  inform 
Madame  Montjou,  and  Madame  Montjou  would 
turn  her  adrift  at  once !  To  retain  the  engage- 
ment was  the  only  way  to  retain  a  shelter. 

Two  of  the  women  had  slammed  their  doors 
already.  By-and-by  the  stairs  creaked  again, 
and  she  knew  that  another  had  come  home. 
There  was  seldom  much  sleep  to  be  had  between 
the  hours  of  one  and  three,  and  she  was  often 
disturbed  by  the  sound  of  voices  which  she  did 
not  hear  during  the  day  ;  but  to-night  the  house 
was  quieter  than  usual.  The  steps  drew  near 
and  paused.  Her  heart,  heavy  with  the  thought 
of  her  bill,  sank  suddenly,  and  she  wished  that 
she  had  blown  the  candles  out.  There  was  a 
knock,  and  the  handle  turned. 

''Whos  that?''  she  exclaimed. 
Me!    Its  all  right,"  said  a  voice  she  remem- 
bered.      Let  me  come  in.'' 

^^What  do  you  want?  I'm  in  bed."  This 
wasn't  true. 

79 


when  Love  Flies 


I  want  to  speak  to  you  ;  I  saw  the  light,  so 
I  knew  you  was  awake." 

''Come  in  the  morning — I'm  very  tired." 

''Come  on,  don't  be  a  fool — open  the  door! 
I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

She  crossed  the  room  irresolutely,  and  turned 
the  key  and  put  her  head  out. 

"  Its  all  right,"  repeated  the  pock-pitted  blonde; 
"  Tm  not  drunk.  I  thought  Td  give  you  a 
look  up.  I  was  there  when  you  was  talking  to 
Madame.    She  wouldn't  part,  would  she  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Meenie. 

"  I  knew  she  wouldn't — I  could  ave  told  you 
that  before."  She  came  in  uninvited  and  sat 
down.  "The  stairs  'ave  winded  me!"  she  mur- 
mured. "  But  I  thought  I'd  give  you  a  look 
up.  You've  got  the  ump,  eh  ?  Wish  you  was 
dead  ?  I  daresay  you  think  it's  got  nothing  to 
do  with  me,  one  way  or  the  other,  but  I  felt 
sorry  for  you — that's  all  about  it.  It's  no  kid ; 
I  mean  it !  I  talked  a  lot  o'  rot  the  other  night 
— I'd  had  a  tiddley  or  two — but  I'm  sober  now, 
and  if  I  could  'elp — kelp  you,  I  would !  That's 
square  talk,  ain't  it  ?  You  can  believe  it  or  not, 
but  it's  square.  Look  'ere,  if  you've  got  a  friend 
in  London,  you  write  to  'im.  Tell  'im  he  must 
get  you  out  of  this,  if 'e  pawns  his  ticker. .  .  .  That's 

80 


Out  o'  the  Window 


square  too,  ain't  it  ?  You  may  do  as  you  like  ; 
but  you  can't  sye  it  ain't  square." 

I  haven't  a  friend,"  said  Meenie.  I'm  sure 
you  mean  well.  I'd  get  out  of  it  to-morrow  if 
I  could,  but  I  can't.  I  don't  know  what  I'm 
going  to  do.  I  can't  go  away,  and  I  can't  pay 
my  bill." 

''Why,  of  course  you  can't  pye  your  bill,"  said 
the  visitor;  ''that's  'ow  they  manage  it.  A  girl 
'oo  can't  pye  'er  bill  can't  hold  out,  you  see,  my 
dear.   And  a  nice  bill  it  is.  Til  bet !   'Ow  much  ? " 

"Thirty-nine  francs — and  I've  been  stinting 
myself  all  the  week  so  as  to  save  enough  to  get 
back  with ! " 

"  I  began  to  guess  that,  when  you  never  came 
down.  First,  when  I  'eard  your  voice,  I  thought 
you'd  got  special  terms — that  was  what  put  my 
monkey  up — but  I  soon  found  out.  Lor',  I've 
seen  'em  before  you — seen  'em  in  'Avre — ZTavre 
— lot's  of  'em  !  There  was  one  poor  girl— Well, 
never  mind  that !  -  Madame  works  the  racket  with 
these  'ere  Montjous  ;  they  pile  up  the  bill,  and 
she  fines  the  girl  and  stops  her  salary.  And 
what's  a  poor  devil  to  do  then  ?  That's  the  long 
and  the  short  of  it,  my  dear.  You  wouldn't  wear 
the  costume  she  showed  you — I  know  all  about 
it  now  ;  that  costume  trick's  as  old  as  the  three- 

F  8l 


when  Love  Flies 


card  fike.  If  you'd  worn  the  costume,  she'd 
ave  stopped  your  money  because  you  wouldn't 
obey  rules.  You  can  be  precious  sure  she'd  'ave 
stopped  it  somehow." 

But  does  she  pay  nobody — doesn't  she  pay 

Oh,  me  ?  "  returned  the  other.  Oh,  y-e-s. 
.  .  .  But  you  see  I'm  one  of  them  as  didn't 
mind  the  rules,  my  dear.  They  made  no  odds 
to  mey 

There  was  a  short  silence.  She  found  a 
cigarette  in  her  pocket,  and  lit  it  in  the  candle- 
flame,  and  sat  puffing  vigorously. 

It  was  kind  of  you  to  come  up,"  said  Meenie. 
**'Tain't  done  you  no  good." 
It's  something  to  know  that  someone  is  sorry 
for  you." 

Yes,  I've  told  you  I'm  sorry.  What  do  you 
mean  to  do  }  " 

I  can't  think.  What  would  you  do  if  you 
were  .  .  .  like  me  ? " 

Gord  !  "  said  the  poor  wretch.  The  question 
seemed  to  bewilder  her.  I  can't  think  neither  ; 
I — I  never  was.''  After  a  minute  she  added  with 
decision,  I  should  'ave  enough  to  eat  anyhow 
if  I  was  you — as  well  be  'ung  for  a  sheep  as 
a  lamb!" 

82 


Out  o'  the  Window 


"Yes,  I  shall  have  enough  to  eat — if  they  let 
me  stop/' 

"  Oh,  they'll  let  you  stop  for  a  bit ;  they  knew 
you  wouldn't  get  your  money  this  week  as  well 
as  Madame  did.  They'll  take  good  care  to  collar 
it  the  moment  you  do !  " 

''But  even  when  she  pays  me  ?  Their 

bills  are  so  high." 

''You  needn't  be  afride  of  them  losing  any- 
thing by  you.  Don't  you  fret  about  that.  How 
long  'ave  you  signed  for — two  months  ?  " 

''Three." 

"Ah  !  "    She  relapsed  into  silence. 
''What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  Oh,  they  won't  lose  anything  by  you, 
that's  all !  .  .  .  Don't  you  worry  about  them  cutting 
up  rough  yet ;  they're  sife  to  trust  you  when 
you're  booked  for  three  months.  I  shall  go  to 
bed  now.  Keep  your  pecker  up !  It'll  be  all  the 
sime  in  a  'undred  years." 

"Good  night,"-said  Meenie. 

"Goo'  night.  .  .  .  That's  true  what  you  said 
just  now  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  About  your  not  'aving  a  friend  ?  " 
"  Quite  true." 

"  Because  if  you've  only  split  with  'im,  just  you 
83 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


tike  my  advice,  and  mike  it  up.  Never  mind 
what  'e  did— mike  it  up,  and  tell  'im  e  must  get 
you  out  of  this,  if  e  pawns  his  ticker!  Goo' 
night." 

^^Good  night." 

*'/V/pye  for  the  stamp  if  you  re  stony.  Don't 
forget." 

I  shan't  forget ;  but  I've  nobody  to  write  to." 

Oh,  well !  "  She  lingered  at  the  door  regret- 
fully, and  then  found  comfort  in  the  phrase  that 
comprised  her  philosophy :  It'll  be  all  the  sime 
in  a  'undred  years !  "  she  said  again. 


84 


CHAPTER  VIII 


RELIEVED  from  the  dread  of  Montjou 
clamouring  for  payment,  Meenie  was  able 
to  behold  him  with  composure  on  the  morrow. 
The  knowledge  of  the  full  measure  of  his 
rascality  was  alleviating.  She  made  no  refer- 
ence to  her  bill ;  since  he  understood  the  circum- 
stances, she  was  spared  the  necessity  for  proffering 
excuses.  But  the  conversation  had  made  it  clear 
to  her  that  on  one  pretext  or  another  the 
manageress  would  withhold  the  salary  until  she 
had  forced  her  to  submit  to  the  abominable  rules  ; 
so  even  when  the  costume  had  been  paid  for,  she 
couldn't  expect  any  money — she  couldn't  expect 
any  till  she  yielded  !  She  was  dizzy  ;  she  groped 
in  the  dark  on  unfamiliar  ground.  Strain  her 
eyes  as  she  might,  she  could  not  see  a  step  ahead. 
She  told  Montjou  that  in  future  she  would  take 
her  meals  in  the  dining-room.  He  said,  Bien  ! 
She  preferred  the  company  of  the  women  in 
their  dressing-gowns  to  being  hungry  any  longer. 
Pressure  tells. 

Madame   Le  Beau  threw  her  an  inquiring 
85 


when  Love  Flies 


glance,  as  if  to  ascertain  her  frame  of  mind, 
when  she  entered  the  cabaret  that  evening. 
When  she  quitted  it,  she  received  a  scowl.  The 
same  the  next  night.  On  Saturday,  on  the  Boule- 
vard Clichy,  she  met  her  manager.  She  bowed, 
and  instinctively  quickened  her  pace,  but  he 
halted  promptly,  and  she  was  obliged  to  stop. 
His  greeting  signified  comprehension  and  even 
sympathy. 

Ah,  mees,  ees  it  not  verra  fine  a  day  ?  "  he 
said.      You  take  your  promenade,  yes  ?  " 

Yes,"  she  said,    Tm  going  for  my  walk." 

Ze  fine  weather  ees  good  to  make  forget,  eh  ? 
I,  also,  I  find  it  so.  I  ave  always  perceived  that 
eef  I  ave  trouble,  and  I  take  my  stroll  in  ze  sun- 
shine, ze  'eart  grow  light.  Ees  it  not  ?  Viz  me 
nevare  it  fail !  In  Nature  zere  ees  somezing 
magique  !  " 

He  turned  beside  her,  and  she  wondered  how 
he  had  the  audacity  to  allude  to  her  trouble.  He 
seemed,  however,  quite  unconscious  of  audacity. 

In  London,"  he  said,  pursuing  his  amiable 
topic  with  a  wave  of  his  cigarette,  ''quite  ze 
contraire  !  I  was  for  five  year  in  London.  Oh, 
mon  Dieu  !  Ze  dark  'ouses,  ze  black  streets,  ze 
solemn,  solemn  people  in  a  urry!  You  pardon 
me,  mademoiselle,  zat  I  say  so  ?    But  in  London 

?6 


Out  o'  the  Window 


nevare  my  'eart  grow  light  when  I  promenade — 
it  grow  eavy,  eavy !  Eef  I  put  on  my  at  appy, 
I  come  ome  to  weep." 

There  is  Nature  in  London  too"  she  said, 
smiling. 

Ah,  out,  but  zere  ees  so  little  art!  And  zere 
ees  so  little  gaietd,  zere  ees  so  little  gas.  You 
must  feel  ze  difference?  It  ees  not  possible  to 
sing — as  you  sing,  mad  moiselle — vizout  a  soul ; 
to  a  woman  or  a  man  viz  a  soul  London  ees 
dpouvantable !  Non,  non^  non,  I  make  no  com- 
pliments !  You  'ave  in  ze  voice  ze  tears,  ze 
'opes,  ze  sentiment ;  I  remark  it  at  ze  re/^(^rsal. 
Ven  I  listen  to  you,  I  forget  ze  cafe.  Vraiment ! 
It  urt  me  verra  much  that  you  are  not  con- 
tent ere.  Already  I  ave  spoke  to  my  vife, 
but  you  ave  irritate  *er.  I  find  it  difficult  to 
arrange." 

You  have  spoken  to  her  about  me  said  the 
girl  eagerly;  asking  her  to  pay  me,  do  you 
mean.^  Oh,  Monsieur  Le  Beau,  if  she  only 
would !  If  she'd  only  give  me  enough  to  pay 
my  bill  and  my  fare  back!" 

''You  vish  so  much  to  go  back?"  he  inquired. 
''Yes,  it  ees  natural!  You  not  like  ze  place, 
and  it  ees  not  refined  for  you.  You  understand 
veil  that  ven  you  were  engaged  I  knew  nozzing. 

87 


when  Love  Flies 


I  would  not  ave  allowed  that  you  came  'ere. 
You  were  a  success  in  London  ? " 

^^Oh,  no— far  from  it!" 
But  eef  you  return,  vot  will  you  do  ?  Vizout 
money  you  find  ze  dark  London  no  paradise,  eh  ?  " 

''No,"  she  admitted,  ''  I  shan't  find  London  a 

paradise,  but  Oh,  Monsieur  Le  Beau,  you 

must  know  what  my  situation  is !  I  am  being 
cheated  at  my  lodgings — I  can't  complain,  and 
I  can't  pay ;  presently  they'll  turn  me  out ! 
Madame  Le  Beau  says  she  is  keeping  back  my 
salary  to  cover  the  expense  of  the  costume  she 
bought  for  me,  but  it  isn't  for  that- — it  is  to  make 
me  like  the  other  women  ;  while  I  refuse,  she 
will  never  give  it  to  me !  What's  to  be  the  end  ? 
When  the  Montjous  are  tired  of  waiting,  what's 
to  become  of  me?  You  say  you're  sorry  I'm 
not  content  here :  you're  the  manager — I  was 
engaged  to  come  to  you — I  hadn't  even  heard 
of  Madame  Le  Beau  till  I  arrived — if  you  mean 
what  you  say,  treat  me  fairly !  Cancel  my 
contract  and  send  me  home  ! " 

Eef  I  was  alone  in  ze  business,"  he  said, 
''you  would  not   'ave  'ad   to   ask.      But  my 

vife  "    He  waved  the  cirarette  ao^ain.  "It 

ees  not  so  easy  as  it  appear  to  you.  All  ze  same 
I  can  save  you  much,  and — I  may  do  all" 

88 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Thank  you,"  she  answered  perfunctorily  ;  she 
could  not  feel  that  she  had  begged  him  to  do 
anything  arduous. 

''Ze  fact  ees,"  he  went  on,  ''she  would  com- 
plain much  to  lose  you  ;  you  can  see  that  we  'ave 
no  one  zat  compare  viz  you.  Not  only  your 
voice  —  your  face,  your  figure,  your  grace ! 
Already  you  are  an  attraction  at  ze  cabaret.*' 

''Then  why  can't  she  be  satisfied  if  I  sing.^^ 
I  don't  grumble  about  that !  If  she'll  give  me 
my  salary  every  week,  and  let  me  continue  to 
go  to  the  dressing-room  between  my  songs,  I'll 
stop  for  the  three  months  willingly." 

"You  'ave  irritate  'er,"  he  murmured.  "I 
shall  talk  to  'er  again  ;  in  me  you  'ave  a  friend. 
You  'ave  known  zat,  yes  ?  " 

"  N— no,"  she  said. 

"  I  admire  you  like  I  'ave  nevare  admired  .  .  . 
zat  ees  true.    You  'ave  not  seen  ?  " 
"Seen?" 
*'  Tell  me !  " 

"  Tm  glad  my  voice  was  good  enough,"  she 
stammered. 

"Oh,  your  voice!  If  you  'ad  no  voice,  still 
I  should  admire.  Listen  veil :  ze  time  will  come 
ven  all  Paris  will  admire !  And  one  day  your 
voice  will  be — ah,  /a  voix  (Tune  sirene !  Only 

89 


when  Love  Flies  Out     the  Window 


one  zing  it  vant  yet — you  ave  not  love.  Ven 
you  'ave  been  taught  to  love  you  vill  give  to  it 
ze  touch  magique  zat  shall  make  you  celebrate." 

She  stood  still  and  forced  a  little  laugh.  I 
hope  your  good  wishes  will  come  true !  When 
Tm  celebrated  I  shall  remember  them."  She 
tendered  her  finger-tips.  ''I'm  taking  you  out 
of  your  way." 

Eef  I  do  all  you  vant,"  the  man  questioned 
slowly,  ''  you  vill  be  grateful  to  me,  yes  ?  " 

I  should  thank  you  and  Madame  Le  Beau 
very  much."    She  drew  her  hand  free. 

The  languid  eyelids  fell,  and  he  gave  the 
faintest  shrug. 

''Adieu,  mademoiselle,"  he  said. 


90 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  Montjou  couple  proved  less  patient 
than  had  been  predicted.  A  few  days 
later  the  man  entered  Meenie  s  room  and  de- 
manded the  sum  due  to  him.  She  could  not 
understand  many  of  his  words,  but  his  voice  and 
gestures  were  significant  enough  as  he  slapped 
the  bill  and  shouted  at  her.  Conjecturing  that 
the  blonde  was  in  bed,  and  that  she  spoke  a  little 
French,  Meenie  ran  downstairs  and  beat  at  her 
door,  Montjou  following  excitedly. 

*'They  want  their  money  ;  he  s  making  a  row," 
she  explained.  I  can't  talk  to  him.  Tell  him 
they  shall  have  it  as  soon  as  I  get  it ;  tell  him 
it  s  not  my  fault ! 

The  blonde  appeared  on  the  landing  in  her 
ulster.  Her  French  was  weak,  but  her  tone  was 
vigorous  ;  she  put  her  arms  akimbo. 

"  What's  all  this  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  What  are 
you  bullying  the  girl  for  ?  Don't  try  these  games 
on  here — they  won't  wash.  When  she's  paid 
she'll  pay  you.    You  must  jolly  well  wait !  " 

**Wait.>"    He  flourished  the  bill  again.  Is 
91 


when  Love  Flies 


it  reasonable  that  we  should  board  and  lodge  her 
for  nothing  ?  That  cannot  be !  We  have  been 
patient ;  we  have  waited  too  long ;  we  are  not  to 
be  swindled  !  Mad  moiselle  has  been  receiving  a 
salary  ever  since  she  arrived,  and  she  eats  and 
drinks,  and  pays  nothing/' 

''Are  you  trying  to  kid  me?  Mad  moiselle 
has  not  received  her  salary — she  hasn't  had  a  sou 
— and  you  know  very  well  she  hasn't!  If  you 
want  your  money,  tell  your  pals  at  the  show  to 
part ;  then  you'll  be  all  right." 

I  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  show ;  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  affairs  of  mad  moiselle. 
Here  is  the  bill.    I  want  my  money." 

''  She  hasn't  got  any." 
Then  I  keep  her  here  no  more  !  You  under- 
stand ?  "  He  turned  to  Meenie  :  You  must  go. 
I  keep  your  box,  and  you  go.  I  give  you  two 
more  days ;  if  you  have  not  paid  in  two  days, 
it  is  finished  ! " 

What  does  he  say  ?  "  said  Meenie. 

''He  says  if  you  don't  pay  up  in  two  days,  he'll 
keep  your  box,  and  you  must  go." 

"Yes,  yes,  yes,"  said  the  man  in  English. 
"Two  days.  You  'ave  'eard  ?  Two  days!" 
And  he  returned  to  the  basement  muttering. 

"Come  inside,"  said  the  blonde.  "Well,  you'll 
'ave  to  give  in  ! " 

92 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Meenie  was  very  white.  I  shall  go  round 
to  Madame  Le  Beau  and  tell  her  what  he  says/' 

What  s  the  good  of  that,  you  fool  ?  She  s 
put  him  up  to  sye  it ! 

I  must  try.    It  can't  do  any  harm.'' 
You'll  be  wasting  your  breath.  The  best  thing 
you  can  do  is  to  take  a  shell  to-night.    When  all's 
said  and  done,  what's  the  use  of  fussing  ?  You  see 
'ow  it  is ;  as  well  do  it  first  as  last ! " 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  Though  she  wasn't 
hopeful  she  would  not  neglect  a  chance  ;  she  was 
determined  to  make  a  forlorn  attempt  to  secure 
fair  play.  She  hurried  through  the  streets, 
questioning  whether  she  should  plead  or  threaten. 
She  reflected  that  her  threats  would  probably  be 
laughed  at,  for  even  if  she  weren't  friendless,  her 
charges  would  be  very  difficult  to  substantiate. 
She  had  signed  the  contract,  and  she  had  insisted 
on  another  costume  being  provided  for  her.  Who 
could  prove  that  she  had  not  known  she  was 
to  pay  for  it  ?  No,  it  would  be  futile  to  threaten  ! 
Ostensibly  the  manageress  was  justified  in  with- 
holding the  salary  at  present ;  and  as  to  the 
Montjous'  claim,  she  was  no  more  responsible  for 
her  singers'  debts  in  their  apartments  than  for 
their  debts  at  a  jeweller's.  The  only  plan  was  to 
plead. 

93 


when  Love  Flies 


Since  their  conversation  on  the  boulevard 
Monsieur  Le  Beau  had  wholly  ignored  her ;  but 
he  greeted  her  this  morning  with  a  faint  smile. 
She  told  him  that  she  wanted  to  see  his  wife,  and 
he  did  not  remain  to  witness  the  interview. 

It  lasted  only  a  short  time.  It  was  not  an 
angry  interview — such  little  anger  as  was  dis- 
played was  on  the  side  of  the  girl.  The  woman 
talked  quite  calmly.  The  position,  she  repeated, 
was  lamentable ;  nobody  could  regret  it  more 
than  she  did — it  always  pained  her  to  see  a  girl 
standing  in  her  own  light !  Her  tone  at  this 
moment  was  truly  motherly.  If  Mees  Veston  " 
would  obey  the  rules,  an  endeavour  should  be 
made  to  pacify  the  people  at  her  lodgings  until 
she  was  able  to  settle  their  account ;  if  she  con- 
tinued to  be  obstinate,  she  could  not  expect  the 
manageress  to  perform  friendly  services. 

I  ave  to  ask  you  to  take  your  place  viz  ze 
ozzers,  and  to  be  amiable  to  the  customers,  bien 
entendu.    Ees  it  '  yes  *  or  *  no  '.^^  " 

No,''  said  Meenie,  crying,     I — I  can't !  " 

Nothing  more  was  said,  but  in  the  evening, 
when  she  left  the  platform  after  her  first  song, 
she  found  the  dressing-room  door  locked. 

For  an  instant  she  thought  it  had  stuck, 
and  she  pushed  with  all  her  force  ;  in  the  next 

94 


Out  o'  the  Window 


she  realised  what  had  been  done,  and  stood 
staring  at  it  blankly.  Perhaps  she  stood  so 
with  her  hand  on  the  knob  for  ten  seconds ; 
estimated  by  her  emotions  it  was  a  long  time. 

She  turned  from  the  door  and  went  back  to 
the  crowd,  and  sat  where  she  saw  an  empty  chair. 
The  only  person  who  had  shown  her  kindness 
here  was  bellowing  a  comic  song,  and  she  prayed 
that  when  it  finished  this  woman  without  aspirates 
and  without  virtue  would  come  to  her  side. 
Across  the  room  their  gaze  met.  Somebody 
spoke  to  her,  but  she  made  no  answer.  When 
she  glanced  towards  the  counter  she  saw  that 
Madame  Le  Beau  was  watching  her.  The  man 
at  her  elbow  spoke  again  ;  she  looked  to  see 
if  she  could  change  her  seat,  but  there  was  none 
vacant,  or,  in  her  confusion,  she  could  perceive 
none. 

"  '  A  fair  old  frisky, 
Put-away-the-whisky, 
Good  old  time  we  had  ! ' " 

The  singer  stepped  from  the  platform  amid 
whistles  and  cheers.  A  party  of  American 
students  broke  into  the  refrain  as  she  neared 
them ;  she  swept  a  mock  curtsey  and  flung  a 
piece  of  slang  over  her  shoulder,  but  she  didn't 
stop.    She  sauntered  to  Meenie. 

95 


when  Love  Flies 


What  s  up  ?  "  she  asked  as  softly  as  her  voice 
permitted. 

''They've  locked  the  door." 
Come  and  sit  by  me  then." 

Untroubled  by  bashfulness,  she  found  space 
promptly  enough  on  a  lounge,  and  until  she 
began  to  bandy  chaff  with  the  men  about  them 
her  presence  was  fortifying.  Within  her  limits 
she  sympathised  ;  she  sympathised,  not  with  her 
reason,  but  her  instinct,  and  instinct  urged  her 
to  spare  the  girl  all  that  she  understood  her  to 
tremble  at.  That  any  girl  could  tremble  at 
the  idea  of  talking  to  strangers  across  a  table, 
however,  and  imbibing  beer  at  their  expense  was 
beyond  her  comprehension.  ^'  Drink,"  she  kept 
whispering.  ''Go  on!  What  do  you  say  'no' 
for  ?    Well,  you  are  a  queer  one  ;  I  never  did  !  " 

An  Englishman,  who  had  strolled  into  the 
Cabaret  de  T Homme  for  no  other  purpose  than 
to  hear  Meenie  sing  "  Allerseelen"  again,  thought 
her  reluctance  queer  too.  It  was  his  habit  to 
observe,  and  he  was  watching  her  curiously  ; 
he  had  been  watching  her  ever  since  she  came 
back  and  sat  down.  When  one  of  the  group 
rose  and  went  out  he  dropped  into  his  place. 

"  Are  you  going  to  sing  '  As  Once  in  May  ' 
to-night  ?  "  he  said,  leaning  forward. 

96 


Out  o'  the  Window 


She  started,  and  the  man  told  himself  that 
he  had  really  stumbled  on  a  singular  study. 
"  Yes,"  she  faltered. 

Tm  glad  of  that.    You  sing  it  well." 
She  was  silent. 

What  are  you  doing  in  a  hole  like  this  ?  " 

I  am  engaged  here." 

So  I  see.  Why  ?  Couldn't  you  do  anything 
better  }  " 

No,"  she  said. 

Don't  you  want  me  to  talk  to  you  }  " 
rd  rather  you  didn't." 

You  prefer  the  company  of  the  ruffians  on 
the  other  side  of  you  ?  " 

I  would  rather  not  talk  to  anyone." 
''All  right,"  he  said,  ''just  as  you  please!" — 
and  he  relit  his  pipe  and  settled  himself  com- 
fortably. 

More  than  half  an  hour  passed  before  he 
addressed  her  again,  and  then  there  was  a  good 
reason  for  it. 

"Would  you  like  to  change  seats  with  me?" 
he  inquired. 

She  accepted  the  suggestion  with  alacrity. 
"Thank  you  very  much,"  she  murmured. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  be  wise  to  let  me  talk 
to  you,  after  all,"  he  said.  "It  appears  to  be 
G  97 


When  Love  Flies 


necessary  that  you  should  lend  an  unwilling 
ear  to  me  or  the  other  fellow,  and  /  should 
probably  annoy  you  less." 

I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  giving  me 
your  seat/' 

''You  needn't  be.    To  be  candid,  IVe  been 
waiting  for  the  chance.    I  saw  it  was  bound  to 
come.    Is  our  fair  compatriot,  swallowing  her 
ninth  bock,  a  friend  of  yours  ? " 
She  has  been  very  kind  to  me.'' 

''Really?  Would  it  be  inquisitive  to  ask 
how  ?  " 

"In  several  ways." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  singing  here  ? " 
"Two  or  three  weeks." 

"  I    only  heard   you   last   night.    You  dis- 
appeared between  your  songs  last  night." 
"Yes,  I  was  in  the  dressing-room." 
"  Why  aren't  you  there  now  ?  " 
"  Because  I  can't  get  in." 
"  How  do  you  mean  ? " 
"  It  is  locked." 

"  Locked  ?    Who  locked  it  ?  " 
"The  management." 

"Is  that  a  fact?"  he  said  with  animation. 
"  That's  very  stimulating  !  Do  tell  me  more  ! 
You've  no  idea  how  useful  these  details  may  be 

98 


Out  o'  the  Window 


to  me  some  day.  The  management — meaning 
the  woman  with  a  figure  like  a  feather  bed — 
locked  the  door,  eh  ?  I  suppose  to — No,  on 
second  thoughts,  you  shall  explain." 

People  usually  lock  a  door  to  prevent  other 
people  going  in,"  she  answered  curtly. 

^^Now  that's  brilliant!"  he  said;  I  didn't 
suspect  you  shone  in  repartee.  So  they  do ! 
And  whom  did  the  fat  lady  want  to  prevent 
going  in  ?  " 

-Me." 

You  are  fascinating,  but  monosyllabic.  Please 
thaw.    I  assume  she  had  a  motive  ?  " 

She  wished  me  to  be  here." 

And  you  declined  to  accord  her  that  natural 
pleasure  ?  " 
-Yes." 

Well,  I  don't  blame  you,"  he  said.  -  In  your 
place  I  should  have  been  equally  ungracious  ;  but 
I  should  also  have  been  more  prudent.  What 
did  you  come  here  at  all  for  ?  " 

I  didn't  know  what  it  was  like." 

-  Couldn't  the  siren  consenting  to  bock  number 
ten  have  told  you  ?  " 

-  She  ?  I  never  saw  her  till  I  came.  I  came 
from  England." 

-  Oh,  I  understand  !  You  came  from  England  ; 

99 


when  Love  Flies 


and  now  that  you  re  in  Rome — Precisely  !  Why 
don't  you  go  back  ?  " 

I  can't ;  they  wouldn't  let  me  off,  and  " 

And  what  ?  " 

I  can't." 

The  man  swept  her  with  a  glance.  He  was  old 
enough  to  be  near  believing  everything  that  she 
implied,  but  he  had  not  outlived  the  scepticism  of 
youth  entirely. 

I'm  sorry  for  you,"  he  said  ;  I  can  imagine 
what  it  must  be  for  a  girl  to  have  to  submit  to 
the  attentions  of  any  brute  with  a  franc  in  his 
pocket.  When  you've  finished,  we  must  wash 
the  taste  of  the  place  out  of  our  mouths  with 
some  champagne.  We'll  go  to  Marguery's — or 
to  any  restaurant  you've  a  fancy  for — and  have 
supper." 

'*Oh,  no,  thank  you,"  she  said. 
You  won't  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  The  result  of  his  experi- 
ment surprised  him  most  agreeably. 

Please  yourself,"  he  said  again.  Halloa, 
it's  your  turn!  I'll  keep  your  seat  for  you  till 
you  come  back." 

He  had  intended  to  leave  as  soon  as  the  song 
was  over,  but  when  she  returned  he  didn't  rise  ; 
he  remained  until  the  dressing-room  door  had 

lOO 


Out  o'  the  Window 


yielded,  and  even  until  he  had  seen  her  pass  out 
on  to  the  boulevard.  As  he  sauntered  homeward 
he  reflected — as  he  had  been  reflecting  at  intervals 
throughout  the  evening — that  the  experiences  of 
an  innocent  girl  who  found  herself  in  one  of  these 
cabarets  would  be  interesting  to  hear ;  he  wished 
Miss  Meenie  Weston  had  been  more  communi- 
cative— she  might  have  given  him  a  lot  of 
information.  He  wished  more  than  all  that  he 
could  make  up  his  mind  about  her.  He  was 
baffled.  His  judgment  reproached  him  that  he 
hadn't  advised  her  to  break  her  agreement,  and 
given  her  the  money  to  take  her  back  to  London ; 
but  it  is  difficult  to  credit  the  unlikely,  and  even 
while  he  regretted  the  omission,  he  said  he  was 
an  ass.    Still  he  regretted  it. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  the  outlay  of  a 
sovereign  —  he  thought  in  English  —  would  at 
least  settle  the  doubts  that  were  piquing  him. 
He  had  often  given  a  penny  to  a  child  imploring 
bread,  and  watched  him  pass  the  next  baker  s 
shop  with  total  unconcern.  On  the  same 
principle  he  might  test  the  sincerity  of  Miss 
Weston  with  a  pound.  He  had  no  superfluity 
of  pounds,  but  as  a  student  of  character  he 
would  obtain  value  for  the  money. 

It  was  not,  however,  with  any  definite  purpose 

lOI 


when  Love  Flies 


that  he  walked  up  to  the  Cabaret  de  T Homme 
on  the  following  night ;  he  told  himself  on  the 
way  that  he  was  going  to  be  disappointed  :  the 
girl  would  be  a  different  being — girls  were  so 
often  different  the  second  time  one  met  them — 
or  he  would  not  get  a  chance  to  talk  to  her. 

In  the  moment  of  entering,  he  didn't  see  her. 
The  jingling  piano,  the  noisy  room,  confused 
him  a  little ;  the  consciousness  of  his  interest, 
and  the  waiters  recognition,  made  him  a  little 
shy.  That  he  might  select  a  desirable  seat  in 
the  least  conspicuous  fashion  he  paused  at  the 
counter,  and  asked  for  a  packet  of  cigarettes, 
while  his  gaze  travelled  round  the  faces.  Then 
he  moved  across  to  her. 

''Good  evening/'  he  said,  shifting  a  chair, 
and  wondering  if  anybody  was  smiling  at  him. 
''So  once  more  the  door  is  locked?" 

She  gave  him  a  half  glance.    "  Good  evening." 

"  Have  you  sung  yet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  twice." 

"I  was  coming  in  earlier,"  he  said,  "but  then 
I  began  to  ^sk  myself  if  I  should  come  at  all." 
After  a  few  seconds  he  added,  "  I  meant  you 
to  say,  '  Why  did  you  ?  '  " 

But  she  said  nothing. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  know  why  ?  " 

1 02 


Out  o'  the  Window 


It  doesn't  matter." 

''Then  I  must  tell  you.  I  came  to  talk  to  you 
again,  if  you  will  let  me." 

''You  know  very  well  I  can't  help  it,"  she 
answered. 

"Pardon  me;  you  have  only  to  say  I'm  a 
nuisance.  I  assure  you  that  if  you'd  rather  I 
left  you  alone,  I  won't  speak  another  word." 

Her  mouth  twitched,  and  she  looked  at  the 
ground. 

"If  it  isn't  you,"  she  said  bitterly,  "it  must 
be  somebody  else.    What's  the  difference  ? " 

"Between  me  and  any  other  cad,  eh  Well, 
Miss  Weston,  I  won't  be  a  cad  ;  perhaps  I  may 
even  be  useful.  I  swear  I  don't  mean  any  harm 
to  you,  and  if  you  think  my  advice  worth  having, 
youVe  only  to  ask  for  it." 

"Thank  you,"  she  murmured.  "I'm  afraid 
nobody  can  advise  me." 

"There's  one  thing  I  can  advise  right  off," 
he  said;  "take  a  glass  of  wine,  because  the 
Fat  Lady  is  scowling  at  us.  It  appears  to  me 
that  if  I  drink  by  myself,  she  is  likely  to  intro- 
duce you  to  somebody  more  gallant." 
I  would  rather  not,"  said  Meenie. 

"Very  well,"  he  said.  "You  understand  why 
I  proposed  it,  though  ?  " 

103 


when  Love  Flies 


^^Oh  yes.    I  know!" 

*'You  say  that  as  if  she  had  commented  on 
your  abstemiousness  already/' 

''When  I  came  in,  she — she  complained  that 
last  night  " 

''Are  you  frightened  of  her?" 

"  I  think  I  am.  I  wasn't  at  first,  but — IVe 
been  through  enough  to  make  me  frightened." 

"Do  tell  me." 

"Its  a  long  story ;  I  daresay  you  can  guess 
something  of  it.  I  thought  I  was  going  to  sing 
at  concerts,  at  a  kind  of — at  a  kind  of  second- 
rate  Steinway  Hall.  I  knew  it  wouldn't  be 
fashionable,  of  course,  because  I'm  nobody,  but 
I  never  dreamt  of  a  place  like  this." 

"  But  when  you  arrived  ?  " 

"I  was  engaged  then;  how  could  I  leave? 
And  then  she  stopped  my  salary,  and  " 

"  Do  you  mean  you  aren't  being  paid  ? " 

"Oh,  I  don't  need  money,"  she  said,  hot  with 
the  sudden  fear  that  he  might  think  she  was 
appealing  for  assistance.  "  I  mean  that — Well, 
I  couldn't  go  away  if  I  had  the  fare ;  I'm  under 
contract." 

The  man  muttered  something  disrespectful  to 
contracts.  "If  she  stopped  your  salary,  how  do 
you  live  ?  " 

104 


Out  o'  the  Window 


''Vm  in  apartments." 
Do  the  people  trust  you  ?  " 
— e — s/'  she  said;  ''you  see,  they  know 

her." 

''The  recommendation  isn't  obvious.  I'm  im- 
mensely sorry  for  you.  I  think  I  said  so  yester- 
day, but  now  I  mean  it  much  more.  Tm  going 
to  help  you." 

She  caught  her  breath. 

"I'm  going  to  help  you;  I'll  be  d — dashed  if 
you  shall  stop  in  a  den  like  this.  Look  here, 
you  must  take  some  money." 

"That's  impossible,"  she  said;  ''you  must 
know  it  is." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  of  the  kind.  Don't 
you  believe  I  mean  well  to  you  ?  " 

It  isn't  a  question  of  my  believing  in  you.  If 
I  were  willing  to  take  money  from  any  man  I 
met,  I  shouldn't  be  worth  helping." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  me  ?  "  he  persisted.  "  Tell 
me  the  truth  :  do  you,  or  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  stammered. 

There  was  a  slight  pause. 
'Ay,  there's  the  rub ! ' "  said  the  man  at  last. 
''  Naturally  you  don^.    You  would  be  a  fool  if  you 
did — or  else  gifted  with  phenomenal  perception. 
Well  my  child,  I  shan't  ask  for  your  confidence 

105 


when  Love  Flies 


— rm  going  to  pack  you  straight  back  to  Eng- 
land. How  much  do  you  want  to  take  you 
away?  I  mean  it:  Tm  going  to  give  it  to  you. 
It's  a  frank  offer — give  me  a  frank  answer.  You 
shall  have  what  you  want  before  you  leave  the 
table ;  and  then  we'll  say  '  Good-night '  and 
*  Good-bye.'" 

She  sat  quivering.  Her  need  of  the  money 
was  desperate,  and  her  instinct  told  her  that  it 
could  be  taken  safely.  She  argued  that  she 
might  repay  it — that  it  would  be  merely  a  loan 
— but  she  was  a  chorus  girl  only  inasmuch  as 
she  had  been  two  years  in  the  chorus  ;  accept- 
ance was  horribly  difficult  to  her. 

I  can't,"  she  gulped  before  she  knew  that  she 
was  going  to  refuse. 

''You  had  better  think  twice,"  he  said.  ''Of 
course,  I  appreciate  your  feelings,  but  I'm  quite 
sure  you  are  being  very  unwise,  and  that  you'll 
repent  it." 

She  was  already  fearing  the  same  thing  ;  if  it 
had  not  been  so  hard  to  say,  she  would  have 
owned  it.  While  she  hesitated,  she  saw  that 
Madame  Le  Beau  was  beckoning-  to  her.  He 

<!_) 

saw  it  too,  and  he  thought  the  English  girl's 
submission  to  that  peremptory  signal  as  ugly  a 
sight  as  his  experience  had  provided. 

1 06 


Out  o'  the  Window 


From  his  chair  he  could  observe  what  followed 
perfectly.  She  appeared  to  be  given  some  in- 
structions, and  to  demur.  The  woman  insisted. 
In  a  few  seconds  they  were  joined  by  the 
manager,  and  the  girl  was  led  to  a  table  near 
the  entrance,  where  two  young  men  were  drink- 
ing champagne.  Champagne  seldom  flowed 
here ;  evidently  customers  to  be  conciliated ! 
The  man  who  was  watching  began  to  gnaw  his 
moustache,  and  he  lit  a  cigarette  with  a  hand 
that  shook  a  little.  His  hands  always  shook 
when  he  was  angry  ;  it  was  a  constitutional  de- 
fect to  which  he  objected  very  much,  because 
it  often  conveyed  the  impression  that  he  was 
afraid. 

He  saw  her  decline  the  glass  that  was  pressed 
upon  her ;  her  companions  expostulated  freely. 
Their  voices  were  indistinguishable — drowned  by 
the  piano  and  the  general  hum  ;  he  did  not  know 
if  they  were  speaking  French  or  English,  but  it 
was  clear  they  were  intoxicated,  and  that  the  girl 
was  painfully  confused.  Only  he  and  the  couple 
in  authority  were  attending  to  the  scene,  and  he 
noted  their  impatient  gestures  as  she  shook  her 
head. 

Suddenly — his  gaze  had  scarcely  reverted  to 
her  when  it  happened — she  was  wrestling  in  an 

107 


When  Love  Flies 


embrace  ;  she  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  half-cry  ; 
and  her  employers  were  at  her  side,  upbraiding, 
gesticulating,  commanding  her  compliance.  He 
leapt  up  and  strode  towards  her,  no  longer  con- 
sidering whether  he  made  himself  conspicuous  or 
not. 

Mad  moiselle,  vous  etes  vraiment  trop  prude, 
Ze  gentlemen  mean  you  no  arm  ! 

''Mais  cest  idiot exclaimed  the  manageress. 
''fen  ai  assez  a  la  fin,     Voyons  !  " 

''Go  and  put  on  your  things,''  he  said  firmly  ; 
''you're  coming  out  of  this  hole  now,  and  you 
aren't  coming  back  again."  He  turned  to  Le 
Beau.  "  You  tallow-faced  scoundrel,  give  her 
the  key  of  the  dressing-room,  or  Til  break  your 
blasted  neck !  " 

"Mais  msieu^  msieUy  msieuf'  screamed  the 
woman. 

The  singer  stopped,  and  the  audience,  starting 
from  their  places,  listened  eagerly.  Those  who 
were  unable  to  obtain  a  view  across  the  heads 
and  hats  jumped  onto  the  tables  and  the  chairs. 
The  only  spectators  who  displayed  no  interest  in 
the  disturbance  were  the  two  who  had  caused  it. 
After  a  stare  of  dismay,  they  continued  to  sip 
their  champagne  with  drunken  solemnity. 

Meenie  had  clutched  the  man  s  arm.    He  saw 

io8 


Out  o'  the  Window 


that  their  best  plan  was  to  gain  the  street  while 
the  proprietors  stood  confident  in  the  possession 
of  her  clothes. 

"  Quick  ! he  whispered  ;     come  as  you  are  !  " 

But  Le  Beau  anticipated  the  manoeuvre,  and 
darted  forward. 

''J' at  son  contrat,  msieu,''  he  exclaimed,  ''son 
contrat  signS  ! 

Will  you  let  me  pass  ? 

Pas  moyen,  msieu^  pas  moyen  !  " 

The  pallid  fat  face  with  its  air  of  defiance 
exasperated  the  man  hugely  ;  besides,  he  was  in 
a  hurry.  He  took  the  shortest  course  without  a 
moment  s  hesitation,  and  pulled  the  door  open  as 
Le  Beau  sprawled  on  the  floor. 


109 


CHAPTER  X 


AN  you  run  ? "  he  asked,  as  their  feet 


disappear  as  fast  as  we  can  ;  I  don't  see  a  cab." 

She  was  afraid  she  couldn't  run,  but  she  kept 
pace  with  him  for  a  few  yards  as  best  she  could, 
though  her  heart  was  pounding  furiously,  and 
her  legs  felt  strangely  unreliable.  A  thin  stream 
of  masqueraders  from  the  Moulin  Rouge  trickled 
along  the  boulevard,  and  he  dodged  across  the 
road  with  her  into  their  midst,  where  she  cut 
less  remarkable  a  figure.  In  la  Place  Pigalle 
a  cab  had  just  deposited  a  fare.  He  hailed  it 
promptly  ;  and  as  she  sank  inside,  it  occurred 
to  him  for  the  first  time  that  he  didn't  know 
where  to  take  her. 

Rue  de  T  Arcade !  "  he  said,  and  as  they 
rattled  down  the  slope  he  turned  and  looked  at 
her. 

''I'm  afraid  you  must  be  awfully  cold  ?  " 
No,"  she  panted,     I'm  not  a  bit."    She  was 
out  of  breath,  excitement  glowed  in  her  cheeks, 


touched   the    pavement ; 


we'd  better 


110 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


and  her  eyes  shone  through  the  dusk,  wide  with 
gratitude. 

He  laughed.  ''It  has  been  rather  amusing! 
You  were  a  good  little  girl  to  do  just  as  I  told 
you.  If  you  hadn't,  we  should  have  been  there 
now.  I  say,  how  much  do  these  people  know 
your  landlady  ?  Will  they  send  round  to  her 
to-night  ?  " 

I  don't  think  so,"  she  faltered. 
Suppose  they  do — on  the  off  chance  of  your 
being  there  ?    I  think  I  must  take  charge  of  you 
till  the  morning." 

She  shivered,  and  the  hands  lying  in  the  satin 
lap  were  restless. 

You  are  cold,"  he  said,  bending  to  her. 
No,"  she  said  huskily.  .  .  .    I  would  rather 
go  back  to  the  lodgings,  thank  you  ;  I  can  stay 
there  till  to-morrow." 

"  How  can  you  be  sure,  now  ?  " 

''They  told  me  so,"  she  murmured. 

''  They  told  you  that  you  could  stay  there  till 
to-morrow?  Do  you  mean  that  to-morrow  you 
had  to  clear  out,  anyhow  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  owned,  "  if  I  couldn't  pay." 

"You  poor  little  soul!  No,  no — I  take  it 
back.  Without  any  wish  to  wound  your  feelings, 
you're  a  dear  little  fool.    You  don't  deserve  to  be 

III 


when  Love  Flies 


pitied  ;  I  sternly  refuse  to  pity  you.  You  must 
have  been  an  idiot  to  say  *  no '  to  the  money  I 
offered  you.    How  could  you  do  it  ?  " 

''I  think  I  was  going  to  say  'yes,'  after  all/' 
she  said  diffidently. 

Mitigating  circumstances ;  but  never  call 
yourself  a  sensible  woman  when  you  grow  up — 
there  are  follies  one  can't  outlive.  And,  after 
this,  you  propose  to  try  to  sleep  there  again, 
do  you?  Good  Lord!  Look  here,  I'm  staying 
at  an  hotel ;  I'll  have  a  talk  to  the  manageress, 
and  she  shall  find  you  a  room  for  to-night. 
After  breakfast  I'll  get  your  belongings  for  you, 
and  in  the  evening  you  shall  depart  for  the  white 
cliffs  of  Albion  by  the  'cheap  and  picturesque 
route.'  How  does  that  suit  you?  Are  your 
troubles  over  ?  " 

She  put  out  her  hand,  and  smiled  up  at  him 
with  tears  in  her  eyes  ; 

I  shall  never  forget  your  goodness  to  me 
as  long  as  I  live ! " 

'*Oh,  rot!"  he  replied,  less  fluent  because  he 
was  touched.  Give  me  the  address,  and  tell 
me  as  exactly  as  you  can  how  much  you  owe." 
He  pencilled  the  information  on  his  shirt  cuff, 
and  as  they  entered  la  Rue  de  I'Arcade  shouted 
to  the  driver  where  to  stop.      You  had  better 

112 


Out  o'  the  Window 


wait  in  the  cab  a  minute,"  he  said,  as  it  jerked 
to  a  standstill ;  I'll  come  out  for  you  as  soon 
as  IVe  explained  things  ;  I  shan't  be  long." 

He  was  longer  than  he  expected,  for  the 
manageress  had  retired  for  the  night,  and  he 
was  left  to  contemplate  the  staircase  while  the 
porter  went  to  summon  her.  When  she  de- 
scended, it  was  necessary  to  apologise  for 
disturbing  her  repose :  only  the  exigencies  of 
the  situation  had  emboldened  him  to  commit 
such  an  atrocity.  Outside  was  a  girl,  a  young 
lady,  a  compatriot  whose  ignorance  of  the  world 
had  placed  her  in  a  most  dangerous  position. 
She  was  homeless,  and  still  attired  in  the  some- 
what exiguous  costume  in  which  she  had  been 
— er — as  a  matter  of  fact,  rescued!  He  began 
to  feel  like  the  hero  of  a  novelette.  If  Madame 
Lahille  would  have  the  kindness  ? 

Madame  Lahille  overflowed  with  sympathy. 
Alas,  such  dangers  were  met  with  only  too  often 
in  Paris!  In  London  no  doubt  the  same.  It 
was  unfortunate  that  a  poor  girl  seldom  found 
a  protector  so  chivalrous.  The  lament  was 
emphasised  by  a  gesture  of  pious  admiration, 
and  he  reflected  that  it  only  remained  for  Miss 
Meenie  Weston  to  call  him  'My  preserver,'  to 
make  him  ashamed  of  the  whole  episode. 
H  113 


when  Love  Flies 


However,  this  exchange  of  civilities  was 
occupying  precious  time,  and  the  girl  remained 
with  a  bare  neck  in  the  cab  while  an  east  wind 
was  blowing. 

Madame  can  place  a  room  at  her  disposal  ? 
he  inquired. 

Yes,  madame  had  by  singular  good  luck  a 
vacant  room  on  the  fourth  floor. 

''And  a  cloak  to  conceal  the  costume?  The 
young  lady  would  naturally  be  reluctant  " 

She  departed  in  quest  of  the  cloak,  and  when 
it  was  forthcoming  he  brought  Meenie  into  the 
hall.  Madame  Lahille  herself  conducted  her 
upstairs,  rejoining  her,  after  about  ten  minutes, 
with  a  glass  of  steaming  claret,  and  a  nightdress 
which  was  much  too  large.  Clothed  in  the 
capacious  garment,  the  girl  sat  up  in  bed,  sipping 
the  hot  wine,  and  thinking  of  the  man  whose 
name  she  did  not  know.  She  wanted  to  cry, 
though  it  was  now  her  happiest  night  in  Paris. 
And  then,  as  the  wine  stole  through  her  veins, 
and  the  strange  high  bed  grew  friendly,  her 
emotions  yielded  to  a  sense  of  delicious  quietude. 
She  did  not  question  what  London  held  for  her ; 
her  contentment  was  too  deep  for  that.  She 
was  free!  The  consciousness  was  a  lullaby. 
''Are  your  troubles  over   "  he  had  said.  Oh, 

114 


Out  o'  the  Window 


he  had  been  good  to  her,  good!  She  would 
make  him  tell  her  precisely  what  she  had  cost 
him,  and  directly  she  had  saved  it,  she  would 
send  the  money  back.  It  would  be  lovely  to 
write  that  letter!  She  blew  out  the  candle,  and 
wondered  who  he  was,  and  what  he  did,  and  if 
he  could  afford  to  lend  her  the  money  ;  he  didn't 
look  rich,  he  only  looked  clever,  and  strong,  and 
nice.  How  hard  he  could  hit!  She  wondered 
whether  she  would  ever  meet  him  again  in 
England,  and  while  she  wondered  she  fell  asleep. 

Fortunately  the  room  was  not  in  the  front  of 
the  house,  or  she  would  not  have  slept  for  long. 
She  came  back  from  dreamland  to  receive  a 
message  from  him  in  the  broken  English  of  the 
chambermaid.  The  monsieur  had  said  that 
Mad  moiselle's  bagage  would  arrive  within  an 
hour.  As  soon  as  it  came  it  should  be  brought 
up  to  Mad  moiselle,  and  then  Monsieur  would 
await  her  in  the  salon. 

Sunshine  lit  the  room  gaily,  and  the  chocolate 
and  petits  pains  were  better  than  at  the  Mont- 
jous .  It  was  pleasant  to  nestle  so  ;  she  aban- 
doned herself  to  the  delight  of  knowing  that 
for  once  responsibility  had  been  lifted  from  her 
shoulders  ;  the  sensation  was  exquisitely  new  to 
her.    She  had  not  been  able  to  fold  her  hands 

115 


'When  Love  Flies 


in  confidence  since  her  mother  died.  She  could 
have  said,  with  Dumas  fils,  My  father  was  a 
child  that  I  had  when  I  was  young." 

A  slow  smile  dimpled  her  face  as  the  heavy 
ascent  of  the  porter  reached  her  ears.  He  had 
no  sooner  closed  the  door  than  she  sprang  out 
of  bed,  and  made  the  best  toilette  that  the  con- 
tents of  her  trunk  permitted.  She  had  hidden 
the  costume  in  the  wardrobe,  and  now  she  took 
it  down  and  stuffed  it  in  the  box.  She  needed 
badly  the  things  that  had  been  left  at  the 
cabaret,  especially  the  jacket,  and  would  have 
much  liked  to  effect  an  exchange.  It  must  be 
chronicled  that  she  lingered  before  the  glass 
longer  than  was  her  custom,  and  although  her 
vanity  was  not  above  the  average,  she  put  on 
a  crepon  blouse,  instead  of  a  warm  one,  because 
it  suited  her  better. 

The  monsieur  greeted  her  in  the  salon,  faithful 
to  his  word  ;  she  was  glad  that  she  had  been 
firm  with  herself  about  the  blouse  as  he  looked 
at  her. 

I  needn't  ask  if  you've  slept  well,"  he  said  ; 
''your  face  proclaims  it.  Were  your  things  all 
there  ? " 

''Yes — everything,  I  think.  I  do  hope  you 
know  how  immensely  grateful  I  am !    I  suppose 

ii6 


Out  o'  the  Window 


you  had  to  pay  more  than  was  fair ;  will  you  let 
me  have  the  bill,  please  ?  " 

Here  it  is,  duly  receipted.  They're  charming 
people — I  can  quite  understand  your  reluctance 
to  leave  them.  They  knew  all  about  the  row, 
of  course,  and  pretended  to  know  nothing.  They 
were  so  sorry  to  part  with  you  that  they  wanted 
another  week's  rent  in  lieu  of  notice ;  it  was 
fortunate  you  told  me  that  they  were  turning  you 
out.  But  behold,  the  affair  is  finished !  Let  us 
forget  it,  and  be  merry.  Let  us  eat  and  drink, 
for  this  evening  you  go.    Come  out  to  lunch  !  " 

It  was  as  yet  too  early  to  lunch,  but  that  was 
no  reason  why  they  should  remain  in  the  hotel. 
Of  a  truth  the  little  salon  was  somewhat  cheer- 
less, with  its  faded  furniture,  its  bare  table,  and 
an  album  of  Swiss  views.  When  she  reappeared, 
with  a  hat  and  gloves  on,  they  sauntered  towards 
the  boulevards  in  good  spirits.  He  was  ex- 
hilarated in  reflecting  that  the  morning  had 
brought  no  disenchantment ;  it  was  the  first  time 
he  had  seen  her  clothed  like  a  Christian,  and  he 
approved  the  difference. 

Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,"  he  said,  ''we 
have  never  been  introduced.  It's  not  a  matter 
of  thrilling  interest,  but  my  name  is  Lingham — 
Ralph  Lingham."    He  pronounced  it  Rafe." 

117 


when  Love  Flies 


I  am  glad  to  know  your  name,"  she  said  ; 
' '  I  was  going  to  ask  you  what  it  was  before 
I  went.    Do  you  live  in  Paris  ? " 

*^  Yes  ;  that  is  to  say,  Tm  going  to.  I  have 
only  been  here  a  week  or  so,  but  I  hope  to  be 
a  fixture.    Where  do  you  live  ?    London  ?  " 

I  always  stay  in  London  between  the  engage- 
ments ;  of  course,  when  Tm  lucky  Tm  on  tour." 

Why  ?  Is  it  easier  to  get  engagements  for  a 
tour  than  for  town  ?  " 

IVe  nearly  always  found  it  so.  Tm  only  in 
the  chorus,  you  know,  and  I  take  what  is  offered." 

''You  took  what  was  offered  once  too  often," 
he  said.  Haven't  you  any  people  to  look  after 
you  ? 

''I  lost  my  father  before  I  went  on  the  stage. 
No,  I  have  no  relations  that  I  ever  see.  One 
gets  used  to  it,  you  know.  It  was  awful  at  first, 
but  when  I'm  on  tour,  and  the  salary  is  all  right, 
it  isn't  so  lonely  as  you'd  think.  Some  of  the 
girls  are  generally  nice,  and  one  usually  finds  a 
chum  ;  two  girls  live  together  every  week,  and 
halve  the  rent  and  the  housekeeping  expenses, 
and — if  it's  a  deluge — the  cost  of  a  cab  to  the 
station  on  Sunday  morning.  It  comes  out  much 
cheaper  that  way,  too." 

''And  if  it's  not  a  deluge,  how  do  you  get  to 
ii8 


Out  o'  the  Window 


the  station  then  ?  Walk,  with  your  trunk  on 
your  back  ?  " 

''Oh,  the  baggage-man  collects  the  girls' 
luggage  the  night  before ;  we  have  only  light 
things  to  carry.  If  we  took  cabs  regularly  we 
should  be  ruined.  Of  course,  if  you  happen  to 
get  in  just  when  the  people  are  coming  out  of 
church,  it  isn't  pleasant  tramping  through  a  town 
with  a  rug  and  a  bag  in  your  hands.  That  s 
horrid  !  You  do  feel  such  a  mummer,  so  ashamed 
of  yourself ! " 

''Good,''  he  said,  "  I  like  that." 

"  You  would  like  it  ?  " 

''  I  mean  I  like  the  idea.  I  see  it.  The  smuof 
provincials  in  their  Sunday  black,  and  the  tired 
little  actress  lugging  a  portmanteau  through  the 
High  Street.    Well,  tell  me  more." 

"  There  isn't  any  more  to  tell,"  she  laughed, 
"except  that  sometimes,  when  you're  very  foolish, 
and  the  stage  manager  has  bullied  you,  or  a  girl 
who  has  the  honour  of  a  single  line  all  to  herself 
has  sneered  at  you  as  'one  of  the  chorus,'  you 
dream  dreams." 

"Oho,"  said  Lingham,  "you  dream  dreams, 
do  you?  This  grows  interesting.  'For  I,  too, 
have  known  my  dreams  ! '    What  are  they  ?  " 

"Mine?  Oh,  well,  for  five  minutes  I  imagine 
119 


when  Love  Flies 


myself  springing  into  a  big  part,  and  getting 
tremendous  notices,  and  heaping  coals  of  fire  on 
my  enemies'  heads.  Its  quite  exciting  while  it 
lasts,  almost  as  good  as  the  real  thing!  All  the 
people  are  so  fond  of  me,  and  so  crushed  to 
remember  that  they  were  ever  unkind.  But  I 
don't  really  expect  to  get  on  any  more  ;  all  that 
is  over." 

''Vanished  with  your  youth?"  he  asked. 
''  Why  not,  for  goodness'  sake,  why  shouldn't 
you  get  on  ?    You've  a  sweetly  pretty  voice." 

She  sighed.  No,  I  shall  never  get  on,  and 
it  wouldn't  satisfy  me  if  I  did.  I  wanted  to  do 
serious  work,  and  that's  impossible.  Naturally 
I  should  be  very  glad  to  '  arrive ' — I  should  be 
delighted — but  the  success  wouldn't  be  so  dear 
to  me  as  if  I  sang  good  music."  She  pointed 
to  the  Opera  House.  Once  upon  a  time  I  saw 
myself  there,  and — Well,  you  know  where  you 
found  me ! " 

''I'm  very  glad  I  did  find  you.  By  the  way, 
how  about  the  clothes  you  left  behind  ?  What 
were  they  ?  " 

"Oh,  a  dress,"  she  said,  "and  a  toque,  and^ — 
and  a  jacket." 

Don't  you  want  them  ?  " 

"Well,  the  dress  had  seen  its  best  days,  and 
1 20 


Out  o'  the  Window 


the  toque  wasn't  worth  anything.  I  should  like 
the  jacket,  though,  if  you  think  it  could  be  got." 

Benighted  man  awoke  to  the  fact  that  she  was 
jacketless.  If  he  piqued  himself  on  anything,  it 
was  on  his  closeness  of  observation.  His  chagrin 
was  severe,  and  his  Scotch  tweed  became  on  the 
instant  a  burden  and  a  reproach. 

''Why,  what  have  I  been  thinking  of.^"  he  ex- 
claimed. ''You  must  be  frozen.  Now  I  notice 
it,  that  thing  you  have  on  is  positively  flapping ; 
we  must  get  another  jacket  at  once  !  "  He  looked 
agitatedly  at  a  confectioner's.  Where  is  there 
a  shop  where  they  sell  such  things  ?  " 

"What  an  idea!"  she  returned.  "It  isn't 
necessary  at  all.  As  a  matter  of  fact " — it  cost 
her  something  to  make  the  admission — "  I  have 
a  much  warmer  blouse  at  the  hotel ;  I  have  heaps 
and  heaps  of  clothes.    Please  come  on." 

''I  must  really  insist,"  said  Lingham.  ''You 
can  pay  me  back,  you  know.  I  think  you  are  in 
a  position  to  afford  a  jacket.  It  is  your  own 
money,  and  you  can  afford  it ;  you  mustn't  be 
mean.    I  beg  you  now — oblige  me." 

He  would  talk  of  nothing  else,  and  the  har- 
mony of  the  morning  seemed  to  be  in  grievous 
peril.  At  last  she  consented,  on  the  understand- 
ing that  he  would  render  her  a  faithful  account  of 

121 


when  Love  Flies 


her  indebtedness  to  him  before  they  parted,  and — 
fleeing  from  the  boulevards  as  from  a  plague — she 
led  him  to  the  Printemps,"  where  a  fool  of  an 
assistant  took  her  for  his  wife. 

Though  this  mistake  was  productive  of  mo- 
mentary   embarrassment,    their    visit    to  the 

Printemps was,  to  Lingham  at  least,  singularly 
charming.  Nor  was  the  charm  less  because  their 
compact  debarred  him  from  obtruding  his  advice. 
Her  economy  was  invincible,  and  the  frowns  with 
which  she  rebuked  his  tentative  temptations  added 
a  zest  to  the  whole  thing.  I  shall  never  be 
shown  anything  moderate/'  she  whispered  to  him 
once.  Your  expression  as  you  sit  there  is 
simply  fatal.''  Then,  too,  when  she  had  had 
her  way,  and  some  cheaper  jackets  had  been  dis- 
played, it  was  delightful  to  have  her  turn  to  him 
in  a  captivating  bargain  with  a  curved  collar,  and 
say,  What  do  you  think  ? "  He  found  it  so 
delightful  that  he  immediately  suggested  she 
should  try  on  another.  He  had  never  spent 
forty-five  francs  with  greater  satisfaction  than 
when  they  turned  into  the  street  again  ;  but  she 
insisted  on  putting  the  bill  into  one  of  the  smart 
little  pockets,  and  vowed  that  she  would  keep  it 
there  till  she  had  been  honest. 

It  was  now  nearly  one  o'clock,  so  they  pro- 

122 


Out  o'  the  Window 


ceeded  to  a  restaurant.  It  was  not  a  fashion- 
able restaurant,  for  he  was  neither  a  rich  man 
nor  a  fool,  although  in  the  pursuit  of  know- 
ledge he  had  invited  her  to  Marguery  s.  He 
took  her  to  a  small,  and  rather  shabby,  estab- 
lishment to  which  few  foreigners  found  their  way. 
Here  they  secured  a  table  to  themselves,  and  after 
the  sauterne  was  uncorked,  he  said — 

I  propose  to  make  a  daring  experiment ;  I'm 
going  to  try  to  renew  an  emotion.  The  last 
time  I  was  in  Paris  I  was  brought  to  this  place 
and  introduced  to  quenelles  with  a  pink  sauce. 
Years  have  passed,  but  I  have  never  forgotten 
that  pink  sauce.  We  are  about  to  meet  again. 
It  is  a  solemn  moment.'' 

When  the  waiter  came  back,  both  were  silent. 
The  sauce  was  thick,  like  warm  cream,  and  the 
soft  little  balls  had  the  appearance  of  miniature 
dumplings.  She  broke  one  diffidently,  and  raised 
the  fork  to  her  mouth,  her  companion  watching 
her  in  suspense.  The  cream  clung  to  her  lips, 
and  the  tip  of  her  tongue  did  the  duty  of  a 
serviette.  Her  eyes  smiled.  A  ripple  of  en- 
joyment curved  her  fair  cheeks,  and — her  head 
tilted — she  gave  him  a  slow  nod. 

I  think  so  too,''  he  said  ;  I  think  my  youth- 
ful homage  was  fully  justified,  eh 

123 


when  Love  Flies 


''The  daring  experiment  is  a  brilliant 
triumph ! "  declared  Meenie.  Do  you  often 
try  to  renew  emotions  ? 

''Long  ago,"  he  replied,  "before  my  infatuation 
for  the  pink  sauce,  I  was  infatuated  by  a  lady. 
When  I  bade  her  '  good-bye '  with  a  bursting 
heart,  I  ventured  to  hope  that  one  day  I  might 
see  her  again.  She  was  a  lady  in  your  profession, 
and  she  said,  '  I  have  never  found  a  Revival  a 
success.'  Experience  has  taught  me  to  appreciate 
her  philosophy.  The  quenelles  have  been  the 
exception  that  proves  the  rule.  Let  me  give 
you  some  more  of  the  sauce,  and  use  your  bread 
when  the  paste  has  gone.'' 

She  had  never  sat  so  long  at  a  meal  in  her 
life,  for  they  lingered  quite  half  an  hour  over 
the  fruit  and  coffee.  He  mentioned  casually  that 
some  of  the  habitues  were  men  whose  names 
were  familiar  to  her,  and  though  he  wasn't  able 
to  identify  them,  the  knowledge  that  celebrities 
came  here  communicated  to  several  commercial 
gentlemen  in  the  room  an  instant  fascination. 
She  was  sorry  when  there  was  no  excuse  for 
remaining  longer  in  this  enchanted  spot  where 
luncheons  were  poetised,  and  poets  lunched  ;  but 
he  had  finished  his  liqueur,  and  she  dared  not 
take  one  herself.    Fearful  of  being  a  nuisance 

124 


Out  o'  the  Window 


as  well  as  an  expense,  she  asked  him  now  if  he 
had  no  business  to  attend  to,  and  if  she  had  not 
better  make  her  way  back  to  the  hotel  alone. 
He  assured  her  that  he  should  only  do  his  work 
in  the  evening  after  she  had  gone,  and  he  looked 
so  crestfallen  at  the  inquiry  that  it  was  evident 
he  had  had  other  views. 

''What  I  was  going  to  suggest,''  he  explained, 
''was  that  you  should  go  back  and  put  on  that 
warmer  blouse,  and  come  for  a  drive.  Your 
train  goes  at  nine  o'clock,  so  we  have  at  least 
six  hours.  Why  spend  them  in  yawning  at  Swiss 
photographs  in  the  salon  ?  We'll  go  for  a  drive, 
and  have  tea  at  Neal's,  and  I'll  get  you  some 
English  papers  to  amuse  you  on  the  boat  in  case 
you  can't  sleep.  Don't  spoil  a  pleasant  pro- 
gramme.   Come ! " 


125 


CHAPTER  XI 


T  T  AVE  you  been  here  before?"  he  asked, 

JL  A  as  they  rolled  into  the  Avenue  du  Bois. 

Have  you  seen  much  of  Paris  ?  " 

I've  never  been  so  far  as  this/'  she  answered 
happily;  ''when  I  got  to  the  Arc  de  Triomphe 
I  turned  back.  Don't  laugh  at  my  accent.  I 
used  to  go  for  a  walk  every  afternoon,  though — 
all  sorts  of  places !  When  I  came  to  the  name 
of  a  street  that  I'd  met  in  books,  I  stood  and 
thrilled  at  it.  And  I  asked  the  way  to  the  Pont 
Neuf,  because  I  knew  'Henri  Quatre  est  sur  le 
Pont  Neuf:  Athos  told  D'Artagnan,  didn't  he 
Or  somebody  said  it  in  Eugene  Sue  ?  Any- 
how, I  knew  it  was  an  equivalent  for  '  Queen 
Anne  is  dead '  when  I  was  a  child,  and  it  seemed 
wonderful  to  go  and  prove  it  a  solid  fact." 

You're  a  very  nice  girl,"  he  said  ;  ''I've  done 
that  sort  of  thing  myself  so  often  !  " 

"  Isn't  it  rapturous  ?  I  don't  think  any  city 
would  be  so  exciting  to  me  as  Paris,  just  because 
I  should  never  come  across  familiar  names  in 
any  other.    When  I  was  at  home — I  mean  when 

126 


when  Love  Flies  Out     the  Window 


my  father  was  alive — I  had  a  girl  come  to  stay 
with  me  from  the  country.  It  was  her  first  visit 
to  London  ;  and  I  took  her  out  and  showed  her 
Hertford  House,  which  was  Lord  Steynes  in 
Vanity  Fair^  you  know,  and  the  fountain  in  the 
Temple  that  they  came  to  in  Martin  Chuzzlewit, 
and  the  two-pair-back  in  Brick  Court  where 
Oliver  Goldsmith's  laundress  found  him  dead  in 
the  morning.  Well,  she  had  lived  in  a  village 
all  her  life,  and  read  nothing.  My  information 
left  her  absolutely  wooden,  for  she  had  never 
heard  of  one  of  the  people  I  was  talking  about. 
It  would  be  just  the  same  with  me  if  I  went  to 
Berlin  or  St.  Petersburg.'' 

I  can't  imagine  you  '  wooden  '  in  any  circum- 
stances," said  Lingham.  ''A  girl  in  your  situation 
here,  who  could  go  out  and  thrill  at  a  statue  " 

''Oh,  well,  but  I  had  to  do  something,  you 
know,"  she  interposed.  I  should  have  gone 
mad  if  I'd  sat  in  my  room  all  day  thinking.  I 
didn't  even  have  anything  to  read." 

You  are  fond  of  reading,  eh  ? "  he  said. 
''What  do  you  read  " 

"  I  have  read  very  little.  At  home  we  had  a 
dilapidated  collection  of  the  novelists  that  every- 
body knows,  but  since  I've  been  alone  I  have 
scarcely  seen  a  book.    Sometimes  on  tour  I  find 

127 


when  Love  Flies 


a  circulating  library,  but  they  generally  want  a 
half-crown  deposit,  and  half-crowns  don't  lie 
about  'promiscuous/    Do  you  read  novels?" 

*'Yes,"  he  said.  He  hesitated  a  little.  ''I 
suppose  everybody  takes  an  interest  in  his  own 
business.    I  write  'em." 

''You  are  an  author?"   exclaimed  Meenie. 
Really  ?    I  wondered  what  you  did.    Do  you 
write  as  '  Ralph  Lingham  '  ?  " 

''Oh  yes.  But  pray  don't  run  away  with  the 
idea  that  I'm  a  famous  person.  You  are  not 
likely  to  get  any  of  my  books  at  the  circulating 
libraries  next  time  you're  on  tour,  even  if  there's 
an  available  half-crown.  You  are  talking  to  an 
able-bodied  failure." 

"  I  wondered  what  you  did,"  she  said  again. 
"  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  a  journalist." 

"Well,  just  now  I'm  a  journalist  too — of  sorts. 
It's  journalism  that  has  brought  me  to  Paris. 
What  made  you  guess  it?" 

"Something  you  said  in  the  cabaret.  You 
asked  me  about  Madame  Le  Beau,  and  said  the 
details  might  be  useful  to  you  one  day." 

"Ah,"  he  replied,  "  I  was  thinking  of  a  novel 
then.  It  struck  me  that  the  experiences  of  a 
girl  like  you  in  a  place  like  that  would  be  worth 
treating.  How  did  you  come  there?  Was  it 
through  an  advertisement,  or  what  ? " 

128 


Out  o'  the  Window 


"  I  was  engaged  by  an  agent,"  she  said. 

''What,  a  regular  theatrical  agent?" 
No,  not  an  agent  who  is  known  at  all.  But, 
of  course,  there  are  plenty  of  little  agencies  one 
hasn't  heard  of — I  took  it  for  granted  he  was  all 
right.  I  was  at  Potter's  one  day,  and  a  woman 
spoke  to  me.  You  know  girls  often  speak  to  one 
another  while  they're  waiting.  She  told  me  that 
she  might  be  coming  too,  and  that  there  were 
vacancies.  I  went  over  to  his  office  with  her,  and 
was  engaged  to  leave  the  next  evening." 

''  Humph,"  he  said.  ''And  she  didn't  come  too  ?  " 

"No,  she  couldn't  get  out  of  an  engagement 
that  she  had  made  for  the  provinces.  It  was  a 
good  thing  for  her  !  " 

His  eyebrows  rose.  "  I  shouldn't  act  on 
another  of  that  woman's  suggestions  if  I  were 
you.  She  probably  never  meant  to  come.  Hasn't 
it  occurred  to  you  yet  that  she  was  working  for 
the  man  ?  " 

"  I  must  be  awfully  stupid,"  said  Meenie  in 
a  whisper,  after  a  slight  pause.  "  I  ought  to 
have  thought  of  that,  and  I  didn't.  I  wonder 
if  you're  wronging  her  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  am,  but  don't  give  her  the  benefit 
of  the  doubt,"  he  answered  sharply.  "Don't  you 
see  that  you  invite  these  catastrophes  if  you  go 
I  129 


when  Love  Flies 


about  London  jumping  at  every  stranger  s  bait  ? 
Before  you  accept  an  engagement  to  sing  abroad, 
you  should  make  inquiries.  For  a  rational  being 
it  seems  to  me  your  behaviour  was  the  most 
extraordinary  I  ever  heard  of  in  my  life."  Solici- 
tude and  rage  are  contiguous  in  man  ;  the  thought 
of  the  danger  she  had  run  boiled  in  him. 

It  was  very  foolish/'  she  admitted. 

It  wasn't  '  foolish/  it  was  insane.  Your  in- 
nocence seems  to  have  been  positively  Galatean. 
How  on  earth  a  normally  sensible  girl  —  you 
appear  to  be  normally  sensible — could  placidly 
place  herself  in  the  power  of  people  she  knew 
nothing  about,  in  a  country  where  she  couldn't 
speak  the  language,  at  a  word  from  somebody 
she'd  never  seen  before,  is — is — —  Well,  it 
beats  me !  You  aren't  fit  to  be  on  the  stage ; 
you  ought  to  be  in  a  nursery." 

She  did  not  seek  to  defend  herself,  and  they 
leant  back  in  the  fiacre  in  silence,  he  frowning 
to  the  right,  and  she  looking  humbly  to  the  left. 
Presently  the  horse's  head  was  turned,  and  they 
commenced  the  homeward  course.  Lingham 
glanced  at  her,  and  saw  that  she  wore  the  air 
of  a  rebuked  child.  He  felt  that  he  had  ex- 
pressed his  opinion  with  more  heat  than  courtesy, 
but  he  was  still  so  indignant  with  her  that  he 

130 


Out  o'  the  Window 


couldn't  find  it  in  his  heart  to  confess  he  was 
sorry-  Compromising  with  his  penitence,  he 
said — 

I  wonder  why  nurses  wear  such  long  cap- 
strings  in  France  ?  " 

It  s  rather  quaint,"  she  replied.  Perhaps 
they  are  for  the  babies  to  play  with/' 

''Yes,''  he  said,  ''I  daresay;  I  didn't  think  of 
that.    Well,  have  you  enjoyed  your  drive  ? " 

Very  much  indeed,''  she  murmured.  *'  It  has 
been  beautiful." 

I  didn't  bully  you,  did  I  ?  "  he  asked  depre- 
catingly. 

"  What  you  said  was  quite  right ;  I  must 
appear  a  perfect  gaby  to  you.  Of  course,  I  did 
behave  in  a  very  guileless  fashion.  All  the  same, 
it  wasn't  quite  so  inexcusable  as  you  think  ;  we 
girls  are  used  to  signing  agreements  with 
managers  we  don't  know.  If  every  time  an 
engagement  was  offered  to  me  I  stopped  to 
make  inquiries,  I  should  never  get  one  at  all. 
While  /  was  inquiring,  it  would  be  given  to 
somebody  else." 

''  I  understand,"  said  Lingham.  But  between 
an  opera  company  playing  in  the  English  the- 
atres and  a  vague  engagement  for  Paris  there  is 
a  lot  of  difference." 

i3t 


when  Love  Flies 


She  nodded.  Oh  yes.  Only  when  you  are 
badly  in  need  of  something  to  do,  and  the  chance 
is  there,  you  naturally  hesitate  to  lose  it.  For 
that  is  what  it  would  mean  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  if  you  weren  t  prompt :  you  would  lose  it. 
I  own  that  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  for 
time  to  consider,  but  even  if  it  had,  I  should 
have  been  afraid  to  do  it.  Perhaps  I  should 
have  been  more  discreet  in  happier  circum- 
stances, but  most  people  would  have  leapt  at 
an  offer  in  my  place.'* 

You  were  hard  up,"  he  asked,  eh  ? 
Hard  up  ? she  echoed.  "  Yes,  I  was  toler- 
ably hard  up.  I  had  been  to  the  agents'  offices 
every  day  for  months ;  I  was  pretty  nearly 
desperate.  When  the  chance  came,  I  thanked 
God.'' 

It  seems  rather  worse  than  being  a  novelist," 
he  said.  Then  you  lived  in  lodgings,  and  were 
in  debt  there,  too  ?  " 

No,  I  wasn't  in  debt ;  I  just  kept  out  of  that. 
I  pawned  things  that  had  belonged  to  my  father, 
and — and  economised." 

Ate  too  little,  I  suppose  you  mean  ?  What 
did  you  have  for  dinner  ?  " 

'*Oh,  don't  be  absurd,"  she  said,  averting  her 
head. 

132 


Out  o'  the  Window 


I  asked  because  I  wanted  to  know.  I  have 
dined  on  tobacco  myself,  and  got  up  late  because 
bed  was  cheaper  than  breakfast ;  I  wondered 
whether  you  could  give  me  any  hints.  Well, 
what  would  you  have  done  if  the  offer  hadn't 
been  made  just  when  it  was  ?  " 

I  should  have  attacked  my  wardrobe,"  she 
answered,  *'and  pawned  a  white  silk  frock.'' 

'•'And  when  the  frock  had  gone?  I'm  not  an 
expert,  but  I  take  it  that  even  a  white  silk  frock 
wouldn't  have  kept  you  indefinitely." 

I  hadn't  looked  beyond  the  frock.  ...  I  might 
have  spared  a  pair  of  shoes." 

And  after  the  shoes  ?    The  deluge  ?  " 

I  don't  know,"  she  said.  I  should  have 
hoped  for  dry  weather." 

He  turned  to  her  with  a  slight  movement  of 
surprise,  and  then  looking  away  as  quickly,  sat 
with  furrowed  brows.  At  last  he  said  on  high 
notes — 

But  I  don't  see  what  you  have  to  expect 
when  you  get  back !  It  seems  to  me  that  you'll 
be  in  just  the  same  predicament  as  you  were 
before  you  came  away.  Will  it  be  any  easier 
to  find  an  enoraorement  now  than  it  was  three 
weeks  ago  ?  " 

I  hope  so,"  said  Meenie.  Of  course,  the 
133 


when  Love  Flies 


trouble  was  that  companies  aren't  sent  out  during 
the  pantomime  season,  and  the  pantomime  com- 
panies were  all  complete/' 

Well,  they're  complete  still,  I  suppose  ? "  he 
said.  The  pantomimes  haven't  begun  yet ; 
how  will  you  be  able  to  wait  for  them  to  finish  ? 
I  thought  that  when  you  were  back  in  London 
you  would  be  out  of  the  wood,  but  I — I  don't 
see  what  service  I  shall  be  doing  you  by  sending 
you  home  after  what  you  say.  Barring  miracles, 
there  would  be  only  a  white  silk  frock  and  a 
pair  of  shoes  between  you  and  the  workhouse." 

She  looked  at  him  blankly. 

'^Well,  isn't  it  so?"  he  said;  ^'or  haven't  I 
understood  you  properly  ?  " 

''Y-e-s,  that's  right,"  she  faltered.  But  it's 
quite  certain  I  can't  stop  here.  I  can't  sing 
French ;  there  is  no  likelihood  of  my  finding 
anything  to  do  in  Paris." 

By  w^hat  you  tell  me,  there  is  very  little  like- 
lihood of  your  finding  anything  to  do  in  London. 
You  say  you  had  been  out  of  an  engagement 
for  months  ;  why  should  you  expect  to  walk  into 
one  within  a  few  days  of  your  return  ?  The  only 
thing  that  I  see  before  you  in  London  is  desti- 
tution. If  you  are  satisfied  to  starve,  you  may 
as  well  do  it  where  you  are,  and  avoid  the 

134 


Out  o'  the  Window 


additional  discomfort  of  a  journey  on  a  cold 
night." 

He  folded  his  arms,  and  his  brow  rucked 
again ;  Meenie  was  thankful  that  he  didn't  say 
any  more.  He  had  told  her  nothing  that  she 
had  not  told  herself  in  moments,  even  while  she 
was  struggling  to  amass  the  fare  ;  nothing  that 
she  would  not  have  repeated  on  the  boat.  But 
during  the  last  few  hours  she  had  been  sanguine  ; 
and  now  her  couragre  had  all  grone.  It  was 
quite  true !  There  were  before  her  the  same 
obstacles  that  she  had ,  left  behind.  London  had 
not  altered ;  the  bills  would  be  just  as  hard  to 
pay,  the  agents'  offices  would  be  just  as  full  ; 
when  she  had  been  back  a  day,  her  position 
would  be  just  as  critical. 

After  a  long  silence,  she  said — 
Perhaps   my  accent  wouldn't  be  so  much 
against  me  in  the  chorus  here,  after  all  ?  What 
do  you  think  ?  " 

The  cab  had  stopped,  and  he  rose,  and  helped 
her  out.  While  there's  tea  there's  hope,"  he 
quoted.  Here  we  are  at  Neal's !  We'll  go 
upstairs  and  talk  it  over." 

But  he  was  not  confident  of  her  obtaining  an 
engagement  in  a  Paris  theatre ;  and  at  their 
table  in  the  reading-room,  by  one  of  the  low, 

135 


when  Love  Flies 


arched  windows,  they  talked  for  a  long  time. 
She  was  too  frank  to  ignore  the  fact  that, 
primarily  at  least,  he  would  feel  responsible  for 
her  welfare  if  she  remained ;  whereas,  if  she 
went,  his  responsibility  would  be  over  by  night- 
fall. 

''You  say  I  may  as  well  starve  here  as  there," 
she  said  ;  "  but  you  know  very  well  you  wouldn't 
let  me  starve — at  all  events,  while  you  were  able 
to  prevent  it.  I  should  be  a  regular  old  man  of 
the  sea  to  you." 

I  should  do  my  best  to  find  you  bread  and 
butter  certainly,"  admitted  Lingham.  ''On  the 
other  hand,  if  you  went  back,  I  should  feel 
bound  to  lend  you  rather  more  than  I  could 
afford.  Its  really  a  matter  for  your  own 
decision ;  for  God  s  sake  don't  think  that  I'm 
trying  to  play  Providence  to  you !  If  you  w^ant 
to  go,  go  ;  but,  as  I  keep  saying,  I  don't  see  that 
you'll  be  a  scrap  better  off  there  than  here. 
Now  that  you're  in  Paris,  why  not  try  to  find 
something  to  do  in  Paris  ?  " 

^'  But  you  tell  me  that  you  don't  think  I  could 
get  into  a  theatre  here  ?  " 

"Well,  put  the  theatre  idea  aside;  the 
managers  aren't  waiting  for  you  on  their  door- 
steps in  England  either.    You  might  get  into  a 

136 


Out  o'  the  Window 


theatre  here  eventually,  but  I  should  imagine  it 
would  be  very  difficult,  and  I  shouldn't  say  it 
would  be  very  desirable.  I  don't  see  how  you 
are  to  wait  for  a  theatrical  engagement  any- 
where ;  if  I  were  you,  I  should  take  whatever 
I  could  get  for  the  present." 

^'Washing?''  she  asked  hopelessly. 

Not  necessarily  washing.  Take — take  any- 
thing to  tide  you  over.  You  needn't  leave  the 
stage  for  good ;  the  agents  can  be  written  to, 
I  suppose  ?  When  the  pantomimes  have  finished 
— when  there's  a  chance  for  you  at  home — you 
can  throw  the  work  up." 

I'll  do  anything  that  is  possible,"  she 
declared.  If  I  could  earn  ten  shillings  a  week 
in  Paris,  of  course  it  would  be  better  for  me  than 
returning  to  London  just  now." 

That  is  precisely  my  opinion.  .  .  .  Very 
well !  Then  it  is  decided  that  you  don't  go 
to-night  ? " 

Yes,"  she  said,    it  is  decided  that  I  don't  go." 
She  looked  down  wonderingly  at  the  street, 
at  the  rolling  carriages,  the  movement  on  the 
sidewalk  opposite.    She  wasn't  going  !   It  seemed 
very  strange,  a  little  unreal. 


137 


CHAPTER  XII 


SHE  spent  the  evening  in  the  salon;  for 
company  she  had  a  book  that  he  had 
bought  for  her  before  they  left  the  Hbrary.  On 
impulse  he  had  taken  up  one  of  his  own,  and  it 
was  no  sooner  in  her  hands  than  he  regretted 
the  choice,  conscious  that  if  she  uttered  unintelli- 
gent criticisms  she  would  destroy  a  great  deal  of 
the  interest  he  was  feeling  in  her.  The  novel 
seemed  to  her  now  so  uncommonly  clever  that 
she  was  diffident  of  acknowledging  to  herself 
how  clever  she  did  think  it.  It  was  a  double 
pleasure  to  learn  by  the  page  of  excerpts  which 
Baron  Tauchnitz  appended  that  many  of  the 
reviewers  shared  her  opinion.  She  found  this 
page  laurels  for  her  hero  s  brow,  and  a  feather 
in  her  own  cap. 

He,  meanwhile,  was  shut  in  his  bedroom, 
finishing  his  causerie  for  The  Other  Side,  a  newly 
established  and  temerarious  journal,  for  which  he 
was  acting  as  Paris  correspondent.  A  course  of 
newspaper  work  is  the  best  possible  training  for 
a  novelist,  but  novel-writing  does  little  or  nothing 

138 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


to  make  a  newspaper  man,  and  in  journalism 
Lingham  found  his  pen  stubborn  and  his  style 
stiff.  Meenie,  who  sat  glowing  with  admiration 
of  Angela  Brown — Publisher,  would  have  mar- 
velled greatly  could  she  have  seen  to  the  third 
floor,  where  the  author  was  muttering  curses  and 
calling  himself  an  impostor  and  an  ass. 

When  he  had  thrust  the  copy  into  an  envelope 
with  a  final  imprecation  it  was  one  o'clock.  As 
he  smoked  his  last  pipe  his  mind  reverted  to  the 
need  of  obtaining  employment  for  her,  and  he 
wondered  whether,  after  all,  he  had  advised  her 
for  the  best. 

He  wanted  to  place  her  in  a  situation  without 
delay  —  for  one  reason  because  he  knew  she 
would  be  distressed  if  he  didn't.  He  wished 
that  he  had  more  acquaintances  in  Paris.  The 
right  thing  for  her  would  be  a  companion  s  post : 
companion  to  an  amiable  widow,  who  was  eager 
to  pay  somebody  to  read  aloud  and  feed  her 
canaries.  It  was  a  pity  that  the  right  thing  was 
always  so  difficult  to  find !  He  had  been  looking 
for  the  right  thing  himself  for  years — ever  since 
he  discovered  the  truth  of  Scott  s  dictum  that 
literature  made  a  good  cane,  but  a  poor  crutch — 
and  the  best  substitute  that  he  had  grasped  was 
this  offer  of  a  regular  salary  from  a  paper.  No, 

139 


when  Love  Flies 


a  companions  post  was  the  Ideal,  a  pendant  to 
his  own  dream  of  a  snug  Government  appoint- 
ment. Well,  he  must  think  of  something  that 
was  practicable  ;  perhaps  the  New  York  Herald 
would  send  an  illuminating  beam  on  the  morrow. 

Early  in  the  day  they  went  out  together  to  buy 
it,  and  on  the  way  Meenie  told  him  how  much 
she  had  enjoyed  the  book.  He  had  an  unap- 
peasable appetite  for  praise  in  print,  and  a  horror 
of  it  by  word  of  mouth,  but  his  fear  that  she 
would  be  stupid  was  short-lived,  and  he  soon 
found  himself  answering  her  as  freely  as  if  she 
had  been  a  fellow-craftsman.  It  was  not  until 
they  had  glanced  at  the  Herald  that  silence  fell 
between  them.  He  saw  that  the  disappointment 
had  depressed  her. 

At  last  he  said — 

^^ril  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  look  up  an 
artist  that  I  know  here  ;  she  is  a  cousin  of  mine. 
Perhaps  you  wouldn't  mind  sitting  to  her  in 
costume,  if  she  wants  a  model  ?  You  might  be 
'The  Queen  of  the  May,  mother,'  or  *  Coming 
through  the  Rye.'  I  don't  know  what  they  pay 
for  that  kind  of  thing,  but  I  suppose  it  would 
mean  a  franc  or  two  an  hour.  What  do  you 
say  ? " 

I  should  be  very  much  obliged  to  you." 
140 


Out  o'  the  Window 


*'A1I  right,  ril  go  this  afternoon.  Mind,  it  is 
very  tiring  work  !  " 

^'Oh,  that  doesn't  matter  a  bit.  If  she  will 
take  me,  I  shall  be  only  too  glad.  Why  didn't 
you  propose  it  before  ?  " 

I  wanted  to  get  you  something  better.  Still, 
we  can  watch  the  advertisements,  and  you  might 
go  as  model  to  her  temporarily.  On  the  whole, 
it  isn't  a  bad  idea." 

He  knew  that  his  cousin  was  staying  some- 
where in  the  Latin  Quarter,  and  when  he  had 
found  his  note  of  her  address  he  tramped  over 
there.  His  conscience  pricked  him  that  he  had 
not  called  on  her  when  he  arrived,  for  she  was  a 
very  nice  girl,  and  although  they  seldom  saw 
each  other,  and  never  corresponded,  they  were 
always  good  friends  when  they  met. 

Georgina  Blair  was  much  younger  than  he,  not 
three-and-twenty  yet.  When  she  was  a  child 
she  said  she  wanted  to  be  an  artist — meaning  a 
painter — and  her  mother  smiled.  Children  always 
want  to  be  funny  things  ;  sometimes  they  want  to 
be  circus-riders.  When  she  was  seventeen  she 
said  it  again,  more  firmly,  and  her  mother 
screamed.  Mrs.  Blair  had  two  thousand  a  year, 
and  a  carriage  with  a  crest  on  it.  (''But  you  will 
not  put  your  name,  which  is  mine  too,  on  the  covers 

141 


when  Love  Flies 


of  printed  books  ?  "  cried  George  Sand  s  mother- 
in-law.)  Every  artist  has  obstacles  to  vanquish  ; 
the  two  thousand  a  year  and  the  crest  had  been 
Miss  Blair  s.  Nor  were  they  a  whit  less  formid- 
able than  the  impediments  which  lend  themselves 
to  more  sympathetic  treatment  in  biographies. 
Yet  she  had  surmounted  them,  and  without 
brutality.  To  an  art  class — meaning  a  school 
for  painting — in  Newman  Street,  to  the  British 
Museum,  and  to  the  National "  had  she  wooed 
her  way  by  turn,  and  now,  culminating  triumph, 
she  had  reached  the  Quartier  Latin.  In  remem- 
bering these  things  Lingham  reached  it  also,  and 
after  several  inquiries,  discovered  the  Pension  de 
Famille  that  sheltered  her. 
It  was  not  imposing. 

Yes,  a  nice  girl,  a  decidedly  nice  girl !  He 
would  have  said  it  as  soon  as  she  entered,  even 
if  he  had  not  said  it  before.  She  had  honest 
brown  eyes,  and  a  frank  hand-clasp,  and  a  mouth 
that  was  strong  enough  to  be  admirable,  and  not 
too  firm  to  be  sweet. 

Halloa,  Ralph  ! "  she  said  ;  ''so  you  have 
found  me !  The  mater  wrote  me  you  were 
in  Paris.  IVe  been  afraid  you  would  call  when 
I  was  out.  Put  your  hat  away,  and  tell  me  all 
the  news.    If  you  sit  down  on  that  chair  very 

142 


Out  o'  the  Window 


carefully,  it  won't  break.  What  is  this  thing  you 
have  dropped  into,  eh  ?  '  Paris  correspondent ' 
sounds  very  fine." 

It  sounds  finer  than  it  is  in  my  case,"  he 
answered.  Still,  two  guineas  a  week  is  some- 
thing." 

It  is  immense,"  she  said  sincerely.  I  have 
never  earned  two  guineas  in  a  year.  You  have 
always  needed  a  salary  from  somewhere  to  enable 
you  to  write  in  peace,  haven t  you?  And  when 
have  you  another  book  coming  out  ?  " 

In  the  spring.  IVe  just  placed  it,  and 
had  a  hundred  pounds  on  account  of  royalties. 
Altogether  I  am  dazed  by  my  own  wealth ! 
Really,  though,  I  begin  to  see  my  way,  now 
that  IVe  got  this  job  on  The  Other  Side,  My 
journalism  is  rather  like  an  omelette  made  by  a 
plain  cook  as  yet,  but  my  hand  will  get  lighter 
with  practice." 

''And  the  book,"  inquired  Miss  Blair,  ''is 
that  good  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is  all  right.  There  are  one 
or  two  original  features  in  it.  I  have  a  Jew 
who  is  neither  a  money-lender  nor  an  '  old-clo' ' 
man.  And  he  can  pronounce  his  w's,  and  talks 
quite  like  all  the  Jews  one  ever  meets.  He'll  be 
a  new  type  in  fiction." 

143 


when  Love  Flies 


She  smiled.      Where  are  you  living  ? 

"  Tm  at  a  little  hotel  in  the  Rue  de  1' Arcade  ; 
but  I  am  going  to  move.  I  only  went  there 
while  I  looked  about  me.  Well,  how  are  you 
getting  on  ?  You  are  not  over  here  by  your- 
self, are  you — or  has  the  emancipation  reached 
even  that  stage  ? " 

Not  quite.    I  came  over  with  a  girl  I  used 
to  know  at  Heatherley's.    The  mater  approves 
of  her,  and  we  chaperon  each  other." 
And  the  work  ? 

She  ran  her  fingers  through  her  fringe  and 
frowned. 

''So  so.  Tm  pegging  away,  and  I  think  I 
know  more  than  I  did.  But  so  many  people 
have  talent — it  s  very  discouraging.  Perhaps  I 
shall  do  something  decent  in  twenty  years.". 

^''Thems  my  sentiments,'''  said  Lingham. 
''And  I  can't  afford  to  wait  twenty  years.  In 
twenty  years  I  shall  be  fifty-five." 

"Oh,  you!"  she  laughed.  "You  are  'made.' 
The  public  have  never  heard  of  me.  If  the 
critics  wrote  about  me  as  they  do  about  you,  I 
should  be  a  happy  woman." 

"  Because  recognition  is  all  you  need  ;  /  need 
money  as  well.  Heaven  knows  I  don't  under- 
value the  criticisms  IVe  had,  but  I  want  some- 

144 


Out  o'  the  Window 


thing  substantial  too.    It  is  easier  for  a  writer 
with  scruples  to  get  fine  criticisms  than  to  get  a 
living,  take  my  word  for  it.    Hence  the  job  on 
the  paper.    I  say,  Georgie  !  " 
What  ? 

I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me." 

''And  hence  this  visit !  "  she  exclaimed. 

*'  Not  altogether/'  said  Lingham  ;  and  then  he 
told  her  the  circumstances. 

She  listened  at  first  with  evident  amusement ; 
but  as  the  seriousness  of  the  situation  became 
clear  to  her,  the  smile  faded,  and  she  ran  her 
fingers  through  her  fringe  more  than  once. 
When  he  made  his  request  that  she  would  give 
Meenie  employment  as  a  model,  her  gesture  told 
him  that  the  plan  was  hopeless  before  she  spoke. 

"My  dear  Ralph,"  she  said,  ''I  don't  employ 
models.  You  want  a  full-blown  artist,  not  a 
student;  Tm  at  Colarossis.  I'd  do  it  with 
pleasure  if  I  were  able,  but  I  couldn't  have  a 
model  here  even  if  I  wanted  one.  If  there  is 
anything  else  " 

''She  doesn't  require  a  fiver,"  he  said;  '' I 
mean  she  wouldn't  accept  it.  She  is — it  sounds, 
of  course,  very  improbable  after  the  story  of 
how  I  met  her — she  is  a  lady.  I  know  / 
shouldn't  believe  it  either  if  somebody  told  me 
K  145 


when  Love  Flies 


the  story.  It  s  one  of  those  things  that  nobody 
ever  believes  unless  it  happens  to  himself." 

''I,  at  least,  don't  disbelieve  it/*  she  replied. 
''On  the  contrary,  Tm  very  interested.  I  should 
like  to  come  to  the  rescue.  I  wonder  if  she 
would  be  of  any  use  to  Madame  Pigeonneau." 

I  wouldn't  allow  her  to  go  sitting  to  any- 
body and  everybody,"  he  answered  quickly.  I 
shouldn't  have  suggested  her  becoming  a  model 
at  all  if  it  hadn't  been  that  I  thought  she  could 
come  to  you." 

''  Madame  Pigeonneau,"  explained  Miss  Blair, 
isn't  an  artist ;  she  keeps  this  pension.  She  is 
an  invalid,  and  her  daughter,  who  used  to  look 
after  things,  has  just  married.  I  know  the  old 
lady  wants  somebody  to  help  her  now.  Does  the 
girl  speak  French  ?  " 

''Not  a  syllable,"  said  Lingham.  "She  doesn't 
even  think  she  does." 

"  That's  a  pity." 

"  I  suppose  it's  a  fatal  objection  ?  " 

"  It's  a  drawback,  but,  after  all,  if  she  is  intelli- 
gent—  Madame  Pigeonneau  speaks  English  a 
little.  It's  an  English  house,  you  know,  and 
there  are  only  eight  of  us  here — all  budding 
geniuses  from  perfidious  Albion  or  America. 
I'll  talk  to  her  if  you  like,  and  let  you  know  what 

146 


Out  o'  the  Window 


she  says.  I  don't  suppose  the  salary  would  be 
much — the  establishment  is  on  a  very  modest 
scale  altogether — but  the  place  would  be  comfort- 
able, and  more  homelike  than  any  other  that  you 
are  likely  to  find." 

It  looked  to  Lingham  so  desirable  a  solution 
of  the  difficulty  that  he  begged  her  to  use  all  her 
influence  to  compass  it,  and  she  promised  to  post 
a  line  to  him  in  the  evening  to  say  whether  she 
had  succeeded  or  not. 

Of  course,  when  he  returned  to  the  hotel  he 
told  Meenie  that  they  mustn't  build  on  success, 
but  there  was  none  the  less  a  prospect,  and  it 
was  pleasant  to  discuss.  On  the  other  hand,  she 
turned  very  pale  the  next  morning  when  he 
showed  her  a  letter  making  an  appointment  for 
her  to  call.  Her  eagerness  to  secure  the  position 
had  not  abated  during  the  night,  but  she  trembled 
now  at  the  thought  of  coming  back  with  the  news 
that  she  had  failed.  It  had  been  bad  enough  to 
fail  at  the  agents'  offices  when  she  was  paying 
her  own  expenses  ;  to-day,  when  they  were  being 
paid  by  somebody  else,  she  felt  that  a  rejection 
would  be  bitterer  still.  She  admitted  something 
of  the  sort. 

If  she  doesn't  take  me,  I  shall  never  have 
the  courage  to  come  back  and  tell  you  so,"  she 

147 


when  Love  Flies 


said.  ''And  I  don't  suppose  for  a  second  that  she 
will !  I  am  so  used  to  being  disappointed  that 
I  apply  for  things  with  a  disappointed  look. 
Before  I  go  in  I  try  to  conjure  up  a  sunny  ex- 
pression, but  a  long  course  of  the  dramatic  agents 
has  done  its  fatal  work,  and  my  face  feels  stiff." 

^'I  don't  suppose  for  a  second  that  she'll  arrange 
with  you  either,"  said  Lingham  gaily.  ''I  thought 
I  had  been  insisting  on  the  fact  all  yesterday." 

Oh,  that  was  before  the  letter  came.  Then 
it  was  different.  It  rests  with  me  now — whether 
she  likes  me  or  not.  You  would  have  done  much 
better  to  put  me  on  the  boat  and  get  rid  of  me, 
you  know !  Think  what  it  will  mean  if  I  meet 
with  one  refusal  after  another.  That's  the  fear 
that  is  paralysing  me.  If  this  woman  says  I'm 
no  use,  we  shall  try  to  make  light  of  the  matter. 
/  shan't  feel  much  like  making  light  of  it,  but 
youW.  be  very  nice,  and  say  it  wasn't  to  be  ex- 
pected I  should  find  anything  so  quickly,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  And  then  there'll  be  another  ; 
and  you'll  be  nice  to  the  '  old  man  of  the  sea ' 
again.  But  it  is  the  ^  old  man  of  the  sea '  that  I 
shall  be  to  you,  just  as  I  warned  you,  and — and 
by  degrees  you'll  wonder  why  on  earth  you  were 
so  generous." 

''If  you  were  ever  a  sanguine  and  cheery  con- 
148 


Out  o'  the  Window 


versationalist,"  he  said,  the  dramatic  agents 
have  a  lot  to  answer  for  indeed.  I  thought  I 
was  bad  enough  myself,  but  compared  with  you 
Tm  Mark  Tapley." 

^^Oh,"  she  cried,  I  should  be  hateful  if  I 
didn't  worry !  You're  a  man  ;  you  don't  under- 
stand. A  man  always  thinks  a  girl  is  satisfied  to 
be  treated  like  a  child  in  money  matters.  Can't 
you  put  yourself  in  my  place  ?  Can't  you 
imagine  that  I  am  just  sick  with  anxiety  to — - 
to  

He  patted  her  arm.  The  sudden  passion  in 
her  voice  embarrassed  him. 

**Yes,  I  will  say  it,"  she  went  on — ^^to  show 
that  I'm  worthy!  You  think  I'm  a  nice  little 
fool — you  have  the  right  to  think  me  a  fool ;  as 
you  say,  I  behaved  like  Galatea  !^ — but  I'm  not 
such  a  fool  that  I  don't  understand  you  took  me 
on  trust  in  the  face  of  the  most  awful  circum- 
stances. Well,  I  want  you  to  see  that  your  trust 
wasn't  misplaced  in  any  way — in  any  way ;  I  want 
you  to  see — I  want  to  prove  to  you — that  you 
didn't  pick  up  a  girl  who  is  content  to  sponge  on 
you !  That  isn't  prettily  put ;  it's  rather  coarse, 
isn't  it  ?  But  it's  exactly  what  I  mean.  I  want 
to  prove  that  you  didn't  pick  up  a  girl  who  is 
content  to  sponge  on  you  ! " 

149 


when  Love  Flies 


She  whisked  by  him  with  her  head  low  before 
he  could  reply.  She  was  rather  ashamed  of  her 
vehemence,  and  more  than  ever  she  felt  that 
Madame  Pigeonneaus  decision  would  be  un- 
favourable. She  had  no  expectation  of  success 
whatever  as  she  made  the  journey.  So  when 
she  was  engaged,  the  miracle  was  thrice  blessed. 

Lingham  was  waiting  for  her  in  the  hall,  re- 
hearsing phrases  of  consolation  ;  and  she  ran 
towards  him,  laughing  and  breathless. 

''IVe  got  it!''  she  exclaimed.  ''Oh,  I  am  so 
grateful !  Your  cousin  is  a  dear  ;  she  had  stayed 
in  on  purpose  to  introduce  me.  Madame  Pigeon- 
neau  isn't  laid  up— I  expected  to  find  her  in  bed 
— she  has  only  a  weak  heart — oh,  and  a  good 
heart !  She  was  very  nice  to  me,  and  said  I  was 
tres  gentille !  Did  you  know  I  was  tres  gen- 
title?  I'm  to  go  at  once — to-morrow,  and — 
Well,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  properly!  When 
I  went  in  Madame  Pigeonneau  said,  '  So  zis  is 
ze  young  lady  ?  '  Your  cousin  said  I  was  ;  and  / 
said  I  was,  and  then  there  was  a  little  pause — I 
just  quaking  in  my  shoes,  you  know,  and  trying 
to  look  composed  and  dignified  all  the  while. 
Then  Madame  Pigeonneau  asked  me  if  I  had  any 
experience,  and  I  was  able  to  say  that  I  had  kept 
house  for  my  father  from  the  time  I  was  sixteen. 

ISO 


Out  o'  the  Window 


That  went  a  long  way !  She  asked  if  I  would 
get  up  early  and  go  marketing  with  Julie — Julie 
is  the  servant — and  whether  I  would  learn  a  list 
of  French  words  in  my  spare  time — the  beef,  the 
mutton,  the  cauliflower,  and  the  potatoes.  When 
I  said  that  my  French  extended  as  far  as  that 
already,  the  sensation  was  enormous!  Well,  Tm 
not  to  have  any  salary  for  three  months — that  s 
the  worst  part  of  it,  because  I  shan't  be  able  to 
pay  what  I  owe  you  yet — but  I  have  got  the  place, 
and  I  should  like  to  shout  '  hurrah '  at  the  top  of 
my  voice." 

The  demonstration  was  not  practicable  where 
they  were,  and  in  the  evening,  when  he  took  her 
to  the  Nouveau  Cirque  to  celebrate  the  triumph, 
her  excitement  had  subsided.  Nevertheless  it 
was  a  very  happy  evening.  In  no  hours  had  he 
found  her  so  attractive,  so  ready  to  see  a  jest,  or 
to  make  one,  as  in  these.  He  regretted  that  their 
brief  intimacy  was  ending.  There  was  even  a 
touch  of  sentimentality  in  his  mood  as  he  re- 
flected that  on  the  morrow  she  would  be  gone. 
As  for  the  girl,  she  knew  that  she  would  miss  his 
companionship  more  than  she  would  have  believed 
it  possible  to  miss  the  presence  of  a  man  whom 
she  had  known  so  short  a  time.  It  comforted  her 
to  remember  that  Miss  Blair  was  an  inmate  of 

151 


when  Love  Flies 


the  pension,  for  that  meant  that  he  would  come 
there  sometimes. 

We  shall  often  see  each  other/'  said  Lingham 
as  if  in  response  to  her  thought.  They  had  had 
chocolate  at  a  cafe,  and  were  strolling  home. 
The  lamps  on  the  boulevards  shone  clear  and 
cold,  and  there  was  the  swishing  of  the  brown, 
leafless  trees  in  the  wind. 

I  hope  so,''  said  she.  But  we  shan't  see 
each  other  before  I  go  ;  I  want  to  arrive  there 
very  early.  So  when  we  say  '  good-night '  we 
will  say  *  good-bye'  too." 

I  shall  get  up  and  see  you  off,"  he  answered. 

I  would  rather  you  didn't;  *  good-byes'  in 
the  early  morning  are  always  so  sad,  don't  you 
think  ?    Besides  it  won't  really  be  good-bye  at 

all,  will  it?    I  "    She  hesitated.    ''I  am  always 

saying  it,  and  my  words  sound  emptier  in  my  ears 
every  time,  but  to-night  I  must  tell  you  again 
that  " 

Oh,  no,"  he  said,  don't,  please  !  Let  us  take 
it  for  granted  ;  I  know  all  you  would  like  to  say, 
and  it's  really  so  unnecessary.  I  wish  I  could 
have  done  more ;  you're  going  into  this  thing 
like  a  little  trump,  and  you're  gay,  and  you're 
brave  about  it,  but  don't  imagine  that  I  don't 
know  it  must  have  its  sting  to  you  all  the  same." 

152 


Out      the  Window 


It  hasn't,"  she  said ;  honestly,  it  hasn't. 
Once  I  daresay  .  .  .  but  not  now.'' 

I  shall  often  come  there,"  he  said  again. 
''When  you  have  a  holiday  you  must  let  me 
spend  it  with  you.  I  suppose  you  will  get  a 
holiday  sometimes  ?  " 

''I  didn't  ask,"  she  said;  ''I  expect  I  shall. 
It's  queer  to  feel  that  Paris  is  going  to  be  my 
home ;  I  may  stop  here  for  years,  mayn't  I  ?  I 
may  never  go  on  the  stage  again.  After  all  I 
don't  know  why  I  should  ;  I  have  only  done  it 
for  a  living,  and  I  shall  have  a  living  without  it 
now." 

'*They  say  it  is  very  difficult  to  leave  the  stage," 
he  replied  ;  almost  as  difficult  as  to  get  on  it." 
It  wouldn't  be  difficult  to  me,"  said  the  girl. 
Talking  of  the  stage,  did  you  ever  write  a  play? 
I  thought  when  I  read  your  book  that  it  would 
make  a  very  fine  play.  And  Angela  Brown, 
Publisher,  would  be  a  striking  title." 

''I'm  not  sure  that  it  would  be  a  good  title  for 
a  play  .  .  .  but  I  don't  know  ;  I  can  see  it  on  the 
'buses !  Perhaps  one  day  I  shall  try  my  hand  at 
dramatic  work.  It  never  occurred  to  me  to 
dramatise  Angela  Brotvn,  Publisher^  though.  .  .  . 
You're  really  determined  that  I'm  not  to  see  you 
off  in  the  morning  ?  " 

153 


when  Love  Flies 


"  I  would  rather  you  didn't,"  she  repeated. 
Madame  Pigeonneau  asked  me  to  get  there  as 
soon  as  I  could,  and  I  want  to  leave  at  seven/' 

Very  well  .  .  .  You  re  in  a  feverish  hurry  to 
run  away  from  me." 

Not  that ;  but  to — to  leave  off  being  a 
burden,"  she  said. 

YouVe  unkind  ;  do  you  know  you  hurt  me 
very  much  this  morning  ?  You  mustn't  say  that 
I  have  found  you  a  burden." 

''The  word  was  bad,"  she  owned;  ''I  didn't 
mean  to  hurt  you."  She  looked  away  from  him, 
between  smiles  and  tears. 

*'  I  shall  miss  you  to-morrow,"  said  Lingham 
impulsively.  ''  I  should  like  to  have — I  wish  I 
hadn't  meddled !  .  .  .  I  seem  to  have  known 
you  much  longer  than  I  have,  Miss  Weston. 
Is  '  Weston '  your  real  name  or  a  professional 
one  r 

My  real  name,"  she  said. 
And— and  '  Meenie  '  ?  " 
'  Meenie  '  is  real  too." 
They  had  reached  the  step,  but  they  had  to 
wait   to   be   admitted.    After   they  had  rung 
twice,  the  porter  turned  in  his  bed  and  pulled 
the  cord,  and  they  entered  the  hall,  dim  in  the 
blueness  of  a  single  burner. 

154 


Out  o'  the  Window 


The  girl  drew  off  her  right  glove. 
Good  night,   Miss  Meenie  Weston,"  said 
Lingham,  facing  her. 

''Good  night,  and — au  revoir,"  she  said. 

In  the  glimmer  of  the  lowered  gas-jet  their 
gaze  dwelt  together  for  a  moment ;  then  the 
softness  of  her  hand  fell  from  him,  and  she  went 
slowly  up  the  stairs. 

When  about  ten  minutes  had  passed,  Lingham 
stole  to  the  fourth  floor  too,  and  tapped. 

Her  voice  reached  him  faintly. 

''  It  s  I,"  he  said.  Tm  pushing  a  note  under 
the  door.  Can  you  see  it  ?  There's  no  answer. 
Good  night." 

''Good  night." 

She  crept  forward,  a  little  white-gowned  figure 
with  her  hair  about  her  shoulders,  and  read  his 
message  in  the  candlelight.  "  For  the  cab  and 
pocket  money."  Two  louis  slipped  from  the 
envelope. 

The  stairs  creaked  unmusically  as  he  went 
down. 

She  locked  her  hands  over  her  breast,  and 
listened  to  every  footfall. 

"  Dear  little  woman ! "  murmured  Lingham^ 
looking  up  in  the  bareness  of  his  room. 


155 


CHAPTER  XIII 


IN  the  pension  dwelt  nine  girls,  and  some  of 
them  were  fair  to  see.  Each  had  her  aims, 
her  joys,  her  sorrows,  and  was  the  heroine  of 
a  story  ;  but  this  is  the  story  of  only  one  girl. 
Six  of  the  nine  studied  at  Colarossis  in  la 
Rue  de  la  Grande  Chaumiere  ;  two  worked  at 
Delecluse  s  in  la  Rue  Notre  Dame  des  Champs  ; 
and  the  other  stopped  at  home,  and  counted  the 
candles,  and  distributed  the  soap.  And  when 
Madame  Pigeonneau  kept  her  room,  the  ninth 
girl  reigned  in  her  stead  over  the  ragout. 

The  ninth  girl  was  not  unhappy.  If  appetite 
is  the  best  sauce,  occupation  is  the  best  tonic. 
When  she  began  to  understand  her  duties,  she 
extracted  some  pleasure  from  them.  If  she 
occasionally  left  undone  things  which  she  ought 
to  have  done,  she  offered  compensation  by  the 
performance  of  tasks  for  which  she  was  not 
eng-aged.  She  made  beds.  And  she  made 
something  else,  which  the  students  received  with 
acclamation,  and  which  Julie  eyed  amazed  :  she 

156 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


made  tea !  The  tea  and  her  singing  were  such 
successful  contributions  to  the  gaiety  of  the  salon 
that  Colarossis  and  Delecluses  furnished  two 
further  applicants  for  board  and  residence  within 
a  fortnight.  Madame  Pigeonneau  could  not  take 
them  because  the  house  was  already  full,  but 
none  the  less  she  appreciated  the  advertisement. 

In  this  environment  of  high  thoughts  and  plain 
living  it  was  the  ninth  girl  who  provided  the 
love  interest.  His  cousin,  w^hom  Lingham  asked 
for  when  he  called,  was  the  first  to  discover 
whom  he  came  to  see ;  but  when  she  invited 
him  to  share  the  ragout,  and  he  passed  the 
evening  in  Meenie  s  presence  with  eight  young 
women  looking  on,  there  wasn't  a  boarder  in  the 
pension  who  failed  to  scent  a  romance.  Per- 
sonally they  shunned  romance ;  righteously  reared 
damsels,  every  student  of  them,  they  connected 
romance  with  marriage,  and  no  girl  who  took 
her  art  seriously  could  contemplate  domesticity 
without  hysterics.  Four  of  the  English  girls 
were  even  members  of  the  A.M.L.,  a  society 
founded  in  the  British  Museum  for  the  purpose 
of  preserving  the  feminine  student  from  tempta- 
tion. The  initials  signified  the  Anti  -  Matri- 
monial League.''  Still,  to  those  whose  mission 
in  life  was  less  important  than  their  own,  they 

157 


when  Love  Flies 


recognised  that  romance  was  not  necessarily 
fatal.  Courtship  as  an  entertainment  they  con- 
doned, and,  indeed,  approved  ;  secure  in  the  pit, 
one  applauds  temerity  on  the  trapeze.  Specula- 
tion ran  high  as  to  Miss  Weston  s  sentiments. 
The  pensionnaires  who  worked  at  the  Academie 
Delecluse  declared  that  no  signs  of  spooniness 
were  visible,"  but  among  the  six  at  Colarossi's 
the  general  opinion  was  that  she  thought  him 
a  dear."  It  is  strange  that  woman  is  always  able 
to  diagnose  the  love  fever  more  readily  in  a  man 
than  in  one  of  her  own  sex. 

So  much  for  the  audience.  As  to  Meenie,  she 
was  in  love,  and  knew  it ;  Lingham  had  fallen  in 
love,  but  was  reluctant  to  acknowledge  it  yet. 
He  said  he  liked  her  very  much.  He  liked  to 
be  with  her  ;  he  was  thankful  when  he  found  him- 
self alone  with  her.  When  his  cousin  remembered 
that  there  was  a  letter  or  a  photograph  upstairs 
that  she  wanted  to  show  him,  and  Meenie  and 
he  were  left  tete-a-tete  for  five  minutes,  he 
counted  it  unto  Georgina  for  righteousness.  It 
will  be  seen  that  Georgina  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
Meenie.  In  a  novel  she  would  have  been  her 
rival,  and  either  have  warned  her  solemnly  that 
the  marriage  would  ruin  his  career,  or  have  con- 
gratulated them  both  with  a  brave  smile,  and 

J  58 


Out  o'  the  Window 


shed  scalding  tears  in  private.  Her  actual 
thoughts  were  that  Miss  Weston  was  very  nice, 
and  that  it  was  a  great  pity  Ralph  wasn't  better 
off. 

Meenie  s  outdoor  exercise  was  not  taken  solely 
in  the  company  of  Julie,  nor  for  the  purchase  of 
provisions.  She  went  sometimes  for  a  walk,  and 
by -and -by  Lingham  learnt  the  fact,  and  they 
wandered  about  the  Quartier  together.  At  this 
stage  he  knew  that  he  was  very  fond  of  her, 
because  a  man  cannot  loiter  at  the  end  of  a 
street  for  half  an  hour  on  the  chance  of  a  girl 
coming  round  the  corner,  and  continue  to  euphe- 
mise.  Then  he  inquired  sternly  what  his  inten- 
tions were  ;  if  he  didn't  mean  to  propose  to  her, 
he  was  behaving  unfairly.  He  was  certainly  in 
no  position  to  marry  ;  if  anybody  had  ever 
asserted  that  he  would  think  of  taking  a  wife 
unto  himself  on  an  income  of  two  guineas  a 
week,  and  something  over  seventy  pounds  in 
cash,  he  would  have  replied  that  the  prophet 
had  been  drinking.  His  convictions  were  sud- 
denly deranged ;  the  pictures  to  which  he  had 
aspired  allured  him  no  more,  and  he  revelled 
in  impressions  that  had  formerly  made  him 
shudder.  The  Chippendale  bookcases,  the  right 
editions,  the  stall  when  he  went  to  the  play,  what 

159 


when  Love  Flies 


was  it  all  worth  ?  A  man  might  look  back  and 
lament  in  the  midst  of  Chippendale  bookcases ! 
A  tiny  apartment  under  the  slates,  with  the  girl 
in  his  arms,  and  a  manuscript  in  the  press,  would 
be  a  richer  joy.  Besides,  he  would  get  on.  It 
wasn  t  probable — in  his  present  mood — to  sup- 
pose that  public  recognition  would  never  come 
to  him.  They  could  be  patient  ;  they  could 
economise  until  he  hit  the  popular  taste.  Per- 
haps the  novel  that  was  due  in  the  spring  would 
be  a  pecuniary  success  ?  He  might  make  several 
hundred  pounds  by  it — for  that  matter,  he  might 
make  a  great  deal  more.  Other  writers  managed 
to  please  the  critics  and  the  public  too :  why 
shouldn't  he  ?  And  he  might  attempt  a  comedy. 
Her  suggestion  of  his  dmrn^itismg  An£'e/a  Brown 
— Publisher,  had  taken  root  in  his  mind,  and 
vaguely  he  saw  a  scenario.  Without  the  post 
on  The  Other  Side,  he  told  himself  that  he 
wouldn't  have  dared  to  rush  into  matrimony ;  but 
although  the  salary  would  not  pay  their  expenses, 
it  would  eke  out  the  money  in  hand  until  a  further 
sum  came  in. 

Perhaps  she  did  not  like  him  enough  ?  She 
was  grateful  to  him  ;  there  was  a  touch  of  senti- 
ment in  her  gratitude,  he  was  sure  ;  but  she  might 
consider  that  even  employment  without  anxieties 

1 60 


Out  o'  the  Window 


was  preferable  to  a  reckless  marriage.  It  would 
be  delicious  irony  to  have  his  own  familiar  argu- 
ments turned  against  him  !  A  pair  of  blue  eyes 
had  sent  his  theories  all  spinning  in  the  air ;  let 
the  lips  prate  prudence,  and  the  situation  would 
be  complete.  How  he  had  always  ridiculed  the 
idea  of  love  in  a  cottage,  loathed  it,  sickened  at 
it !  He  knew  that  cottage  ;  several  of  his  ac- 
quaintances had  taken  it,  and  asked  him  to 
dinner.  It  was  furnished  conspicuously  with 
Aspinall  and  the  wedding  presents.  The  train 
service  was  excellent — in  the  time-table — and 
you  smelt  boiled  cabbage,  and  heard  the  babies 
crying  when  you  reached  the  front  door.  And 
yet — Well,  he  did  not  crave  for  a  baby  now,  but 
he  would  welcome  even  Aspinall  and  a  suburb  as 
concomitants  to  Meenie. 

When  she  had  been  at  the  pension  a  little  more 
than  a  month,  he  confessed  it ;  not  in  those  words, 
but  in  the  best  phrases  that  he  could  find.  They 
were  very  artless.  Realist  though  he  was,  he 
would  have  hesitated  to  put  such  a  proposal  into 
one  of  his  books.  For  this  reason,  among  others, 
the  proposal  is  omitted  from  the  narrative.  He 
explained  his  circumstances  with  perfect  candour, 
and  asked  her  if  she  would  be  his  wife. 

They  were  on  the  Boulevard  Saint- Michel — 

L  l6l 


When  Love  Flies 


a  poor  place  to  propose  in,  though  a  million 
romances  begin  and  end  there.  Twilight  was 
falling ;  the  windows  of  the  brasseries  and  cafes 
glowed  warmly,  and  the  flower-sellers,  and  the 
olive -vendors,  and  the  decorative  Turks  with 
their  trays  of  sweets,  dodged  deftly  among  the 
crowd. 

Y es,"  she  said. 
The  man  was  seized  with  regret  that  he  could 
not  catch  her  close  and  kiss  her.  The  girl,  who 
was  equally  ecstatic,  did  not  feel  the  need  of  a 
physical  caress  yet.  To  him  the  crowd  that  kept 
her  from  his  arms  became  momentarily  more 
obtrusive,  more  irritating  ;  to  her  it  was  impalp- 
able, a  dream ;  only  he  and  she  were  the  realities. 
A  hand  thrust  a  posy  towards  him ;  a  voice 
pleaded  to  him  to  buy  a  little  bouquet  for  his 
sweetheart — seulement  trente  centhnes''  He 
grasped  the  blossoms  as  an  augury,  and  drew 
her  out  of  the  stream  of  traffic  to  a  table,  where 
they  were  served  with  something  that  she  could 
not  taste. 

Then  he  leant  towards  her  and  whispered. 
She  looked  at  him  across  the  flowers.  It's 
very  wonderful,"  she  said,  speaking  as  if  she 
were  in  church. 

I  was  just  thinking  so  too." 

162 


Out  o'  the  Window 


"  I  meant  it  is  wonderful  to  feel  that  you  care 
for  me/' 

''/meant  it  is  wonderful  to  feel  you  re  going 
to  be  my  wife." 

''Seise  sous,  msieu,''  said  the  waiter  briskly. 
'^Merci  bien,  msieu  He  whipped  up  the  tray, 
and  bustled  to  the  counter. 

I  hope  Tm  not  letting  you  do  wrong?''  she 
went  on  after  a  silence.  ''  Perhaps  one  day 
youll  wish  we  hadn't  met  each  other." 

^'You  know  I  shall  never  do  that;  it  is  you 
who  are  being  rash." 

We  shall  be  awfully  hard  up." 
I  have  been  hard  up  all  my  life." 
''  We  may  rise  to  an  attic." 
ril  make  it  pretty  if  we  do!    We'll  have 
a  flower-pot  and  a  birdcage  in  the  window." 

A  bird  would  drive  me  mad  when  I'm  at 
work  ;  I  have  a  dreadful  temper." 
*'  So  have  I — furious  !  " 

You  ?    You're  an  angel !  " 
She  laughed  softly.     ''You  don't  know  me 
yet.    Wait  till  you  find  me  out." 

The  prospect  thrilled  him  ;  his  heart  swelled 
at  it.  He  clasped  her  hand  furtively,  with  an 
eye  on  the  waiter's  back. 

163 


when  Love  Flies 


Meenie ! 

Tell  me  my  name." 
"  Mr.  Lingham." 

IVe  warned  you  what  my  temper  is  like." 
''Then  '  Ralph' — because  Tm  frightened." 

Meenie!" 
^^Yes?" 

Nothing — I  wanted  to  say  '  Meenie/  that's 
all.  .  .  .  Meenie,  I  shan't  be  able  to  write  a  line 
to-night;  can't  you.  get  away  and  go  out  with 
me?" 

'*Oh,  I  can't  again  this  evening!"  she  ex- 
claimed. ''How  could  I  ?  You  might  come 
there  instead — if  you  want  to  see  me  very  much." 

''  That's  not  so  good  ;  I  hate  those  gawky  girls 
sitting  about  the  room  and  listening  to  every 
word  I  say  to  you.  Still,  I  suppose  I  must  put 
up  with  them  a  little  longer.  You  will  arrange 
to  leave  soon,  won't  you  ?  When  will  you  marry 
me,  Meenie  ?  " 

"Some  day,"  she  murmured,  "if  we  don't 
grow  wise." 

"Will  you  marry  me  next  week?" 

"  Next  week  ?  "  She  played  with  the  teaspoon, 
and  her  bosom  rose. 

"Monsieur  ees  not  reading  ze  Figaro?''  A 
164 


Out  o'  the  Window 


waiter,  proud  of  his  English,  pointed  to  the 
journal  on  the  table. 

''No,''  said  Lingham  impatiently,  no,  take 
it !  "  He  leant  closer  to  her.  Why  should  we 
wait?''  he  urged.  ''Poor  people  ought  to  be 
practical.  We  shall  have  seventeen  hundred 
and  fifty  francs  next  week  ;  the  week  after  there 
won't  be  so  much.  To  delay  would  be  sheer 
improvidence.  The  prudent  course  is  to  marry 
at  once." 

A  clock  brought  her  down  to  earth. 
I  must  go,"  she  said,  starting.       I  had  for- 
gotten all  about  the  time  ;  Madame  Pigeonneau 
will  wonder  where  I  am.    Then  you  will  come 
to-night  ?  " 

''Yes,"  he  said,  "I  shall  come,  of  course;  but 
I'm  going  to  the  end  of  the  street  with  you  now. 
You  needn't  run,  Cinderella ;  look,  your  coach 
is  on  the  rank  !  " 

"We  can't  afford  it.  Prince,"  she  smiled. 

He  found  the  plural  number  enchanting,  but 
he  drove  her  to  the  corner  in  spite  of  the 
remonstrance.  The  crowd  on  the  pavement 
would  have  hindered  her — and  in  the  shadow 
of  the  cab  there  was  no  one  in  the  way. 

165 


CHAPTER  XIV 


HE  earliest  joy  that  first  love  yields  a  girl 


X  is  the  sense  of  being  mastered.  The 
second  is  the  revelation  of  her  own  power.  This 
astonishes  her ;  the  god  kneels,  and  the  throne 
is  hers.  At  the  beginning  she  is  a  little  breath- 
less, a  little  bewildered ;  she  does  not  realise 
herself  in  the  aspect  that  she  wears  to  him.  She 
discovers  that  she  possesses  a  force  she  knew 
nothing  about :  she  intoxicates.  She  has  in- 
toxicated nobody  hitherto  ;  neither  her  brothers, 
to  whom  she  has  been  sexless,  nor  her  sisters, 
who  have  always  told  her  that  she  would  be 
pretty  if  her  nose  weren't  so  long.  It  startles 
her  to  find  that  the  hands  that  cut  the  bread-and- 
butter  can  make  a  man  tremble  when  they  touch 
him  ;  that  the  hair  she  has  brushed  and  coiled 
impassively  all  her  life  holds  a  shiver  in  every 
thread.  She  has  scrutinised  her  features  night 
and  morning  for  years,  yet  her  lover  s  eyes  reflect 
a  magic  in  her  face  which  the  mirror  has  not 
shown.  She  wonders,  she  experiments,  she 
exults.     His  emotions  surprise  her  as  the  bits 

1 66 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


of  paper  attracted  by  the  sealing-wax  surprise 
a  child  ;  she  finds  it  lovely  to  see  them  jump. 
Very  soon  she  accepts  divinity  as  a  birthright ; 
and  her  family,  to  whom  she  still  is  mortal,  gape. 

Meenie's  engagement  to  Lingham  differed  from 
most  engagements,  only  insomuch  as  it  was 
briefer.  Of  course,  she  consented  to  marry  him 
in  the  following  week,  and  meanwhile  they  hunted 
for  a  place  to  live  in.  As  an  engaged  man  he 
found  that  the  evening  in  the  salon,  with  eight 
pairs  of  eyes  studying  his  symptoms,  had  its 
awkwardness ;  it  was  embarrassing  for  the  fiancee 
too,  so  she  obtained  permission  to  go  out  every 
afternoon  now,  and  the  number  of  slatternly  land- 
ladies they  contrived  to  interview  on  these  after- 
noons was  highly  creditable.  It  had  promised 
to  be  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  choose 
a  lodging,  but  the  adjectives  in  advertisements 
are  so  misleading^.  For  ''charminor"  both  con- 
ceived  quite  a  violent  hatred;  the  ''charming 
rooms/'  that  proved  to  be  dirty  beyond  ex- 
pression, were  as  numerous  as  the  half-dressed 
proprUtaires, 

Yet,  though  they  were  sometimes  tired  and 
often  disappointed,  it  was  not  devoid  of  excite- 
ment to  mount  the  high  staircases  together  and 
conjecture  what  would  be  revealed  at  the  top  ; 

167 


when  Love  Flies 


not  without  its  tremors  to  inspect  side  by  side 
the  apartments  where  they  might  soon  lie  heart 
to  heart.  It  was  not  conventional — it  was  Mariage 
au  Quartier  Latin — but  the  sense  of  intimacy  was 
delicious.  They  wanted  at  a  moderate  rental  a 
couple  of  rooms  prettily  furnished,  with  a  piano, 
and  attendance,  and  a  pleasant  view.  Who  should 
seek  less  ?  Yet  it  began  to  seem  as  if  they  must 
decide  between  a  flat,  with  a  servant  to  sleep  out, 
and  a  pension.  And  the  one  was  expensive  ;  the 
other  distasteful. 

Their  honeymoon  was  to  be  spent  in  Paris. 
From  the  Consulate  they  intended  to  drive 
straight  home.  Lingham  had  suggested  a  fort- 
night in  the  country,  but  the  girl  was  obdurate  ; 
''You  have  been  extravagant  enough,''  she  said; 
''when  we  are  married  we  must  begin  as  we 
mean  to  go  on."  They  were  eager  in  these 
circumstances  to  make  their  choice  speedily,  so 
that  the  place  might  look  cosy  when  they  entered. 
The  man  wanted  his  books  unpacked,  and  Meenie 
had  visions  of  flowers  and  her  music. 

At  last  they  stumbled  on  a  veritable  bargain 
over  a  shop  in  la  Rue  Poncelet.  The  piano 
merely  needed  tuning,  and  the  woman  was  not 
only  cheerful,  but — for  a  Paris  landlady — clean. 
She  offered  them  two  rooms  for  ninety  francs  a 

1 68 


Out  o'  the  Window 


week,  including  food  and  wine.  They  could  see 
potentialities  in  those  rooms ;  when  they  had 
''put  their  things  about"  all  would  be  well.  She 
was  ready  to  provide  a  second  table  for  Monsieur 
to  write  at,  and  expressed  the  conviction  that 
Madame would  find  her  cooking  phenomenal. 
Nobody  could  say  more.  Lingham  paid  Madame 
Goigoux  a  deposit  on  the  spot,  and  they  de- 
scended the  stairs  jubilantly. 

Thenceforward  they  made  daily  pilgrimages  to 
la  Rue  Poncelet.  On  Monday  they  enshrined 
a  plant,  and  on  Tuesday,  in  les  Ternes,  they 
picked  up  some  bookshelves.  Georgina  was  a 
very  good  friend  to  them,  and  her  ideas  on  the 
subject  of  a  wedding  present  were  so  exuberant 
that  they  required  restraining.  He  had  invited 
her  to  breakfast  with  them  at  a  restaurant  after 
the  ceremony,  but  in  the  end  it  was  settled  that 
he  should  give  a  little  dinner  instead  the  day 
before;  and  previous  to  the  dinner  they  imparted 
to  their  abode  the  finishing  touches. 

They  had  arrived  with  their  trunks.  It  was 
almost  as  if  they  were  man  and  wife  already  as 
the  luggage  was  dumped  into  the  salon,  and  they 
knelt  over  their  belongings  on  the  same  carpet. 
The  chest  that  held  the  books  was  difficult  to 
open,  but  when  the  lid  was  wrenched  off,  and, 

169 


when  Love  Flies 


between  the  brown  paper,  the  volumes  showed 
their  alluring  backs,  the  girls  fair  head  dipped 
to  the  contents  as  blithely  as  a  duck  s  to  the 
stream.  And  she  was  not  dilatory  with  a  duster. 
They  arranged  their  library  in  four  fascinating 
rows.  Then  Meenie  took  out  the  photographs 
of  her  parents,  which  she  put  on  the  mantelshelf, 
and  one  of  herself  at  the  age  of  twelve,  which 
Lingham  annexed  immediately,  and  vowed  must 
stand  nowhere  but  on  the  second  table.  For  the 
adornment  of  the  walls  Madame  Goigoux  had 
deposited  on  the  floor  a  stack  of  unframed  can- 
vases that  had  been  the  property  of  a  former 
lodger,  and  these  they  pounced  on,  to  communi- 
cate to  the  ensemble  a  dash  of  colour,  a  sug- 
gestion of  the  studio,  which  would  lift  it  into 
the  ideal. 

They  examined  the  Italian  models  and  the 
dancing-girls  together,  a  committee  of  two,  cheek 
by  cheek.  One  dancing-girl  recurred  so  often 
that  they  drew  inferences,  and  some  of  the 
'"Academies"  Lingham  promptly  dropped,  before 
the  cheek  approached,  for  consideration  after  they 
were  married.  He  balanced  himself  on  a  flight 
of  steps,  and  Meenie  stood  at  the  foot  with  a 
critical  eye,  and  her  hand  full  of  tacks.  As  often 
as  she  held  one  up  to  him  he  kissed  her  fingers, 

170 


Out  o'  the  Window 


at  the  risk  of  breaking  his  neck,  and  this  made 
the  process  of  picture-hanging  unnecessarily  slow. 
However,  when  their  selections  were  all  displayed 
to  the  best  advantage,  the  improvement  was  un- 
deniable. With  the  sketches  and  the  books,  and 
the  plant  blooming  in  the  window,  the  little  in- 
terior was  inviting  enough.  They  surveyed  the 
result  of  their  labours  with  unmixed  approval, 
and  as  to  Madame  Goigoux,  who  returned  to  see 
how  they  were  getting  on,  she  waxed  so  enthusi- 
astic that  they  began  to  fear  she  might  raise  the 
rent. 

But  their  complacence  was  as  nothing  com- 
pared with  their  rapture  in  opening  the  door  the 
next  evening.  Welcome  was  in  the  air.  The 
world  was  hidden  by  the  curtains,  lamplight  shone 
on  the  bulbous  gold  of  the  champagne  bottle,  and 
the  glasses  twinkled  on  the  cloth.  The  girl  un- 
pinned her  hat ;  his  emotion  was  infinite  ;  they 
had  come  to  stay ;  she  lived  with  him  here — in- 
credible !  Let  me  take  off  your  jacket,"  he 
begged.  It  was  thrilling  to  divest  her  of  it,  to 
draw  off  her  gloves,  and,  for  the  first  time,  to 
have  her  nestle  in  his  arms  in  the  atmosphere  of 
home.  She  gathered  up  the  things  and  tripped 
to  the  bedroom.  He  wandered  restlessly,  longing 
for  her  to  return.    The  dinner  had  been  ordered 

171 


when  Love  Flies 


from  a  restaurant  close  by,  and  presently  Madame 
Goigoux  came  in  with  the  soup.  He  called,  and 
his  wife  answered.  O  bounteous  hour,  fruitful  in 
surprises  !  To  call,  and  to  hear  one  s  wife  answer  ! 
The  strange  joy  shook  him.  A  moment  later  she 
reappeared,  and,  lo  !  the  fairy  godmother  had  been 
with  her,  and  she  was  transfigured,  dazzling  in  a 
white  silk  frock.    He  caught  his  breath. 

"  I  couldn^t  help  it !  "  She  blushed.  Our 
wedding  day  !    I  wanted  to  look  nice." 

His  eyes  devoured  her.  Her  own  drooped 
before  them,  but  her  bosom  was  triumphant. 

*'You  look  beautiful,''  he  murmured;  ^'you 
look  taller.  How  did  I  find  the  courage  to  pro- 
pose to  you  ?  "  He  offered  his  arm.  Mrs. 
Lingham,  may  I  take  you  down  ? " 

They  went  to  the  table.  The  cork  popped  a 
salute,  and  they  moved  the  lamp  that  they  might 
see  each  other  better. 

''Say  that  again,''  she  commanded;  'T  liked  it." 
Say  what  ?    That  you  are  beautiful  ?  " 
No,  no  ;  my  new  name." 

So  he  repeated  it :      Mrs.  Lingham  !  But 
'  Meenie '  vibrates  to  me  much  more." 
Oh,  '  Meenie'  is  so  old  to  me,'' 

He  foamed  her  glass  afresh.  I  propose  the 
health  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom !    I  say  from 

172 


Out  o'  the  Window 


my  heart  that  the  bride  is  divine.  What  she  saw 
in  the  bridegroom  Heaven  knows,  /  don't!  But 

utterly  unworthy  of  her  as  he  is  " 

No,  no  !  "  she  cried. 

In  spite  of  unseemly  interruptions,  I  say  that 

utterly  unworthy  of  her  as  he  is  " 

^^He  isn^t!'^ 
I  still  thank  God  he  won  her!    I  ask  you  to 
drink  to  their  happiness,  darling." 

They  clinked  their  glasses  with  his  arm  about 
her  waist ;  and  Madame  Goigoux  came  back  with 
the  fish. 

Of  a  truth  Madame  Goigoux  was  rather  a 
nuisance,  for  the  courses  seemed  so  many,  and 
their  appetite  was  so  small.  By  the  time  the 
entree  was  reached  the  carefully  considered  dinner 
became  as  perfunctory  as  a  banquet  in  a  play  ; 
everything  looked  very  good ;  there  was  the 
semblance  of  feasting  ;  but  as  for  the  banqueters' 
appreciation  of  the  viands,  that  was  the  merest 
show.  For  all  its  flavour  to  the  bride  the  bird 
might  have  been  created  by  the  property  master, 
and  if  the  groom  had  obeyed  half  the  impulses 
that  seized  him  to  snatch  her  hands  from  her  knife 
and  fork,  the  dinner  would  never  have  befen 
finished  at  all. 

However,  he  was  patient,  and  held  them  when 
173 


When  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


the  cloth  was  cleared.  Butterfly-kisses  are  the 
quiver  of  a  girl's  eyelashes  on  her  lover  s  face. 
She  made  him  smoke,  saying  that  she  would 
not  be  treated  as  if  she  were  a  visitor.  She 
wondered  if  he  wanted  to  put  his  slippers  on, 
but  she  didn't  like  to  ask  him  that,  although 
she  was  sure  that  boots  worn  all  day  must  be 
extremely  painful. 

By-and-by  he  begged  her  to  sing,  and  opened 
the  piano.  He  stood  there  to  turn  the  leaves 
for  her,  but  she  would  not  let  him  do  it,  and 
banished  him  to  the  armchair.  Her  voice  had 
never  sounded  so  intense  to  him,  and  she  had 
never  sung  so  badly.  The  lover  and  the  artist 
both  responded  to  it,  and  passionately  he  envied 
a  composer's  power  of  communicating  in  a  line 
more  than  an  author  could  express  in  a  thousand 
words. 

She  rose,  and  leant  by  the  window.  He  saw 
that  she  did  not  wish  to  speak.  The  street  was 
sinking  into  silence ;  the  little  shops  across  the 
way  slept  behind  their  shutters.  She  looked  up 
at  the  sky,  remembering  vaguely  many  crises  in 
which  she  had  watched  the  stars — and  the  stars 
were  still  unchanged !  By  no  transition  her 
thoughts  reverted  to  her  mother ;  and  the  husband 
behind  her  became  a  strange  man. 

174 


CHAPTER  XV 


HE  popular  imagination  has  been  so  im- 


X  pressed  by  facile  pictures  of  a  clown 
grinning  through  a  horse-collar  with  tears  in 
his  eyes  that  many  people  have  come  to  regard 
the  career  of  clown  as  uniquely  poignant.  But 
there  are  fewer  clowns  than  journalists,  and  while 
the  sorrowing  clown  must  cut  capers  with  his 
legs,  the  stricken  journalist  must  be  nimble  with 
his  mind,  which  is  far  more  difficult,  and  doubly 
cruel.  Though  the  screams  of  a  wife  in  agony 
shake  his  pen,  he  mustn't  be  late  with  his  leader. 
A  coffin  may  lie  in  the  silent  house,  but  the 
Paper  will  go  to  press  at  the  usual  hour.  If  the 
graveyard  has  numbed  him  in  body  and  brain, 
he  must  hammer  out  that  column  of  Notes  and 
Comments"  before  the  pillar-box  is  cleared.  In 
grief  or  in  joy,  on  a  sick-bed,  or  on  a  honey- 
moon, the  first  duty  of  a  journalist  is  to  post 
his  copy  in  time ;  and  after  breakfast  on  the 
morrow  Lingham  had  to  wrestle  with  his  causerie, 
though  he  had  never  attacked  it  with  more  re- 
luctance. 


when  Love  Flies 


Meenie  watched  her  lord  with  reverent  eyes, 
and  when  he  bit  the  penholder  and  stared  dis- 
consolately at  the  ceiling,  her  heart  ached  for 
him.  In  the  circumstances  it  was  not  to  be 
expected  that  he  would  progress  very  rapidly, 
and  there  were  several  interludes  of  the  David 
and  Dora  type.  After  luncheon  they  went  on  the 
boulevards,  and  bought  the  Chronicle  and  a  lot 
of  French  newspapers — it  surprised  her  to  find 
what  a  lot  of  French  newspapers  he  had  to  skim 
— and  in  the  evening  they  witnessed  a  dreary 
show  at  Olympia. 

The  cooking  of  Madame  Goigoux  was  not 
phenomenal,''  but  it  w^as  satisfactory,  and  they 
had  no  reason  to  complain  of  their  arrangement 
as  the  days  passed.  By  degrees  the  sense  of 
strangeness  wore  from  the  perpetual  tete-a-tete  ; 
the  man  found  it  possible  to  write  without  turn- 
ing his  head  every  other  minute  to  see  if  his 
wife  looked  comfortable,  and  Meenie  was  able 
to  appreciate  more  of  their  library  than  the 
titles. 

Of  course,  she  appreciated  nothing  so  warmly 
as  Lingham  s  copy  for  The  Other  Side.  That 
was  devotion.  It  savoured  of  the  miraculous  to 
her  when  he  wrote,  ''The  incident  reminds  one 
of" — an  anecdote  that  was  much  brighter  than 

176 


Out  o'  the  Window 


the  incident  itself,  and  threw  in  an  epigram  which 
somebody  who  died  a  hundred  years  ago  seemed 
to  have  made  on  purpose  to  fit  the  situation. 
What  if  the  paragraph  did  take  an  hour  and 
a  half  to  produce  ?  She  could  not  have  done 
it  herself  in  a  lifetime !  Her  opportunities  while 
he  worked  were  when  he  was  doubtful  of  the 
epigram,  and  she  could  run  to  the  shelves  and 
pull  down  the  book  that  he  wanted  to  refer  to. 
And  when  she  read  :  But  those  behind  the 
scenes  are  smiling  at  the  rumour,"  she  was  quite 
sure  the  editor  of  the  journal  must  think  his 
correspondent  was  a  member  of  the  best  clubs 
and  an  habitue  of  all  the  green-rooms. 

When  the  new  year  was  a  fortnight  old, 
Lingham  began  seriously  to  consider  the  drama- 
tisation of  Angela  Bi'own  —  Publisher,  The 
project  was  infinitely  more  fascinating  to  her 
than  his  journalism,  for  it  had  been  born  of  her 
suggestion,  and,  better  still,  they  could  discuss 
the  scenario  together. 

It  was  discussed  for  many  days.  More  than 
once  the  lamp  died  out  while  they  sat  talking 
over  the  difficulties,  and  they  were  plunged  in 
darkness.  It  was  pathetic  to  realise  how  many 
of  the  best  scenes  in  the  book  must  be  sacrificed 
for  dramatic  form,  and  dizzying  to  discover  that 
M  177 


when  Love  Flies 


he  was  compelled  to  lay  a  whole  Act  in  Angela  s 
office. 

I  don't  know  how  to  bring  anybody  in  there 
after  the  hero  has  gone,"  he  said;  ''and  Tm 
bound  to  show  that  office.  What  does  every- 
body come  for? — the  entire  cast  can't  have  written 
novels.  ...  Of  course,  nine-tenths  of  the  dialogue 
about  literary  life  must  be  cut  out  for  the  theatre. 
I  must  just  explain  how  Angela  comes  to  have 
the  business,  and  what  kind  of  girl  she  is,  and 
then  stick  to  the  story." 

It  might — no,  that  wouldn't  do !  "  said  Mee- 

nie. 

What  were  you  going  to  say  ?  " 

I  was  going  to  say  it  might  be  her  birthday  ; 
that's  why  the  others  come." 

Well,  she  has  a  home  ;  she  wouldn't  give  a 
party  in  her  office." 

No,  I  thought  of  that  as  I  spoke  ;  her  birth- 
day is  no  good.  Supposing — No,  that  wouldn't 
do  either ! " 

He  pulled  at  his  pipe,  and  mused  heavily. 

Well,  it's  quite  certain  that  a  way  must  be 
found  to  bring  some  people  in  there,"  he  said 
at  last  in  a  slightly  injured  tone;  ''she  and  the 
hero  can't  jaw  over  his  infernal  manuscript  for 
a  whole  Act.     Wait,  wait,  wait!     I've  got  it, 

178 


Out  o'  the  Window 


IVe  got  it!  Don't  talk  to  me — IVe  got  it,  and 
it'll  go !  " 

Ab  uno  disce  omnes.  There  were  evenings 
when  they  gazed  at  each  other  despairingly,  and 
others  when  the  wits  of  both  were  nimble,  and 
obstacles  fell  like  ninepins.  She  could  not  write 
three  lines — she  tried  once  for  fun — but  occasion- 
ally, as  she  came  to  have  an  inkling  of  con- 
struction, she  would  vault  a  hedge,  or  dart  to 
a  hole  in  it,  more  quickly  than  he. 

Nevertheless  he  had  an  eye  for  essentials. 
Staggering  as  the  task  was  at  times,  he  found 
he  was  accomplishing  a  scenario  which  looked 
workmanlike  with  greater  speed  than  he  would 
have  expected  of  himself,  considering  the  toil  and 
tribulation  inflicted  by  The  Other  Side.  It  was 
the  scenario — the  skeleton  of  the  thing — that 
was  his  chief  anxiety  ;  of  his  dialogue  he  wasn't 
much  afraid.  He  worked  so  indefatigably  that  a 
bride  less  interested  in  his  pursuits  might  have 
felt  neglected.  The  girl  told  him  once  that  a 
pen  was  never  out  of  his  hand  except  when  he 
was  rustling  the  daily  supply  of  French  news- 
papers. He  drew  her  close,  and  answered. 
Because  I  want  to  make  money  for  Meenie  ! " 
But  he  took  her  to  the  Palais  de  Glace  that  night, 
not  quite  sure  that  he  hadn't  been  a  brute. 

179 


when  Love  Flies 


When  its  last  bone  was  fitted  and  polished,  the 
skeleton  was  packed  up,  and  its  creator  trembled 
for  it  as  he  had  not  trembled  yet,  for  it  was  going 
to  London  to  be  judged  by  an  expert.  And  he 
had  grown  to  love  the  skeleton.  He  addressed 
it  to  ''Spencer  Parlett,  Esquire,''  and  enclosed  a 
letter  saying  he  wanted  to  hear  the  truth. 

Let  it  be  understood  that  Spencer  Parlett  was 
a  popular  dramatic  author,  and  it  is  redundant  to 
add  that  he  was  a  friend,  for  popular  dramatic 
authors  do  not  read  manuscripts  to  oblige  ac- 
quaintances. He  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact.  Ling- 
ham's  familiar  friend,  and  one  of  the  small  minority 
who  believed  him  to  be  a  novelist  of  uncommon 
power.  The  belief  was  older  than  the  friendship. 
Though  they  had  never  collaborated,  Lingham 
had  learnt  more  of  stagecraft  from  their  intimacy 
than  he  had  suspected  until  the  last  few  weeks  ; 
and  he  had  learnt  enough  to  know  the  folly  of 
proceeding  further  with  the  structure  if  the  frame- 
work was  malformed.  But  again,  he  loved  the 
skeleton  :  he  awaited  the  reply  with  nervousness. 

It  came  four  evenings  later.  Meenie  tiptoed 
to  read  it  over  his  shoulder,  but  'twas  scrawled  in 
pencil,  and  Parlett  wrote  a  devilish  hand.  Ling- 
ham  read  aloud — slowly,  and  muttered  criticisms 
which  were  not  in   the  note.     Fully  twenty 

1 80 


Out  o'  the  Window 


minutes  had  gone  by  before  he  grasped  the  sense 
of  the  whole,  and  even  then  there  remained  one 
or  two  words  which  he  could  only  guess  at. 

"  My  dear  Benedict, — 

"  How  is  it  possible  that  people  possessed  of 
such  magnificence  in  Fiction  can  envy  me  my  humble 
cottage  on  the  Stage  ?  Sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth 
it  is  to  have  a  competitory  pal.  So  I  have  nursed  a 
viper  on  my  hearth  only  that  he  may  pluck  the  fees 
from  a  struggling  playwright's  purse !  Go  ahead,  dear 
boy — I  think  it  ought  to  ^  come  out '  excellently. 

"Yours  ever, 

"  S.  P." 

He  is  a  very  good  chap,''  observed  Lingham, 
glowing.  '''Excellently,'  eh?  He  couldn't  say 
much  more,  could  he.'^  I'm  very  fond  of  Parlett. 
Meenie,  if  this  makes  our  fortune,  it  will  be  your 
doing  ;  I  should  never  have  started  it  but  for  you. 
Who  knows !  it  may  be  a  colossal  success  ;  we 

might  make  "    His  brain  swam.  ''Parlett 

has  made  about  thirty  thousand  pounds  out  of 
Tke  Power  of  the  Purse  since  it  was  written.  A 
big  success  in  the  theatre  is  an  income  for  life. 
Oh,  my  dear,  I  should  love  to  get  you  swagger 
frocks,  and  diamonds,  and  buy  you  a  carriage ! 
You  would  look  so  fetching  in  a  victoria ! " 

"Goose!"   she   said,    seeing   herself    in  it. 
i8i 


When  Love  Flies 


**What  is  Parlett  like?  Is  he  young?  How 
jolly  it  must  be  to  meet  famous  people ! " 

I  don't  meet  many.  Young?  Well,  he  isn't 
so  young  as  he  was,  or  as  he  feels.  He  has  done 
a  lot  of  things  in  collaboration,  you  know,  and 
when  he  first  worked  with  other  men  he  always 
used  to  make  '  the  old  man '  in  his  comedies  fifty 
— an  enfeebled  dotard  of  fifty.  Then,  as  time 
went  on,  Parlett  began  to  resent  it  when  a  colla- 
borator wrote  *an  old  man — 50.'  He  used  to 
say,  '  Not  fifty,  my  dear  fellow — fifty  is  ridi- 
culous!  Let  us  make  him  fifty-five.'  And  for 
a  while  *  the  old  man '  in  Parlett 's  comedies  was 
always  fifty-five.  But  everything  is  relative ; 
to-day  he  always  pleads  for  him  to  be  sixty. 
It's  becoming  very  difficult  for  his  collaborators ! 
He  says,  *  In  my  plays  fifty  is  the  heyday — my 
favourite  age.  Very  soon  the  gallant  boy  of  fifty 
will  be  my  hero  !  " 

He  wrote  the  first  line  of  the  dialogue  the  next 
morning;  after  the  encouragement  he  had  received, 
how  could  he  hesitate  ?  For  all  that,  he  recog- 
nised that  the  avocation  had  its  risk ;  no  matter 
how  good  the  piece  might  prove,  it  would  be  a 
property  for  which  he  had  to  find  a  market, 
whereas  if  he  sat  down  to  a  novel,  instead,  he 
would  be  producing  something   for  which  his 

182 


Out  o'  the  Window 


market  was  already  made.  They  had  often  dis- 
cussed the  point,  and  once  during  the  morning 
he  turned  to  her  with  it  again. 

Its  a  slower  job  than  I  thought  it  would  be/' 
he  exclaimed.  I  can  t  write  at  the  Parlett  rate  ! 
I  believe  Tm  mad,  after  all,  to  devote  months  to 
an  experiment.  Suppose  the  time  is  thrown 
away  ?  suppose  I  never  get  the  thing  accepted  ? 
Tm  not  in  a  position  to  try  my  hand  at  a  new 
game." 

He  did  not  know  it,  but  beneath  the  irritation 
in  his  voice  there  was  the  plaintive  ring  of  one 
who  hopes  he  will  be  contradicted.  Instinct  set 
her  reply  in  the  right  key. 

''The  experiment  has  been  made,"  she  said 
promptly.  ''We  never  feared  for  your  dialogue, 
only  for  your  construction.  That  is  done — and 
praised ! " 

He  looked  happier ;  the  irritation  of  his  tone 
was  less  marked. 

"  Praised  by  somebody  who  hasn't  got  a 
theatre,"  he  argued.  "  Parlett  s  praise  won  t  put 
the  piece  on  the  stage  when  it  is  finished.  If  I 
were  getting  ninety  francs  a  week  from  the  paper 
I  wouldn't  mind,  but  we're  eating  up  our  capital. 
How  long  will  it  last?  I  never  could  do 
arithmetic." 

183 


when  Love  Flies 


Ages  !  "  she  returned.  And  your  book  will 
be  out  directly ;  there  will  be  more  money  to 
come  from  that/' 

''It  mayn't  be  much,  and  it  may  not  come  in 
time/' 

Some  of  it,"  she  persisted,  is  bound  to  come 
in  time.    There  are  your  Continental  rights." 

He  smiled.  You're  a  delightful  little  business 
woman  !    You  remember,  do  you  ?  " 

''Oh,  I  remember!  I  ask  for  information — 
like  Rosa  Dartle — and  when  it's  given  I  don't 
forget.  Besides" — she  leant  over  him  with  a 
master-stroke — "  you  would  be  wasting  time  if 
you  put  the  comedy  aside  now.  Your  head 
is  full  of  it,  and  you  could  no  more  think  out 
a  plot  for  a  new  novel  while  your  brain  is 
bubbling  with  something  else  than  /  could. 
You  would  do  just  nothing ! " 

The  truth  of  this  settled  the  doubt  once  and 
for  all,  and  he  plunged  into  the  work  chin-deep. 
They  paid  Madame  Goigoux  a  franc  a  week 
extra,  because  sometimes  he  burnt  the  lamp  half 
the  night  now.  Happy  amendments  often  flashed 
on  him  after  he  was  in  bed,  and  then  at  breakfast 
he  sat  tortured,  straining  to  recall  them,  and 
jumped  when  a  spoon  clinked.  He  hooked  a 
pencil  and  pad  on  the  wall  over  his  pillow,  and 

184 


Out  o'  the  Window 


would  heave  in  the  dark  and  scratch  memoranda 
just  as  she  was  falling  asleep.  Once,  when  she 
woke,  she  crept  from  the  bedroom  to  see  a  bowed 
back,  and  wild  hair,  and  a  clock  pointing  to  the 
hour  of  five.  And  behold  the  wise  woman ! 
She  did  not  say,  Do  you  know  the  time,  dear  ? 
She  noted  that  the  pen  flew  fast,  and,  holding 
her  breath,  stole  back  so  cautiously  that  he  never 
guessed  he  had  been  overlooked.  Verily  when 
an  author  can  approve  his  wife  she  was  deserving 
of  a  better  fate ! 


185 


CHAPTER  XVI 


THE  winter  passed,  and,  on  the  boulevards, 
the  buds  and  the  chairs  came  out  while 
he  worked  at  the  comedy  ;  and  in  the  blaze  of 
summer  he  was  still  scribbling  and  declaiming  at 
the  second  table,  for  a  dramatist  can  no  more 
write  dialogue  in  silence  than  an  actor  can  study 
a  part  sitting  down.  Parlett  had  returned  the 
scenario  at  the  end  of  February  ;  when  the  post- 
man delivered  to  the  author  two  type-written 
copies  of  the  piece  the  end  of  July  was  near. 
Very  attractive  the  four  Acts  looked  with  their 
red-ruled  margins  and  their  pink  bows.  It  was 
almost  as  pleasant  to  toy  with  them  as  it  had 
been  in  April  to  receive  the  six  free  copies  of  the 
novel,  Dedicated  to  my  Wife.  What  playwright 
in  his  noviciate  would  have  demurred  when  the 
girl  he  thought  prettiest  declared  that  the  carbon 
copy  of  Angela  Brown — Publisher  must  be  bound 
in  cloth  for  her  own  shelf  Not  Lingham,  though 
it  had  been  ordered  lest  the  other  went  astray  in 
its  adventures. 

1 86 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


They  commenced  briskly.  The  piece  was  sub- 
mitted to  the  Pall  Mall  Theatre — where  the  actor- 
manager  s  wife  was  the  leading  lady — and  after  a 
week  of  comparative  idleness,  Ralph  began  to 
revolve  another  book.  The  review^s  of  the  last 
were  as  excellent  as  usual.  Often  when  Meenie 
had  torn  open  the  exciting  green  wrappers,  and 
devoured  the  cuttings  that  were  enclosed,  there 
seemed  to  her  a  touch  of  unreality  in  the  situa- 
tion ;  she  contemplated  his  pecuniary  position  in 
amaze.  ''Mr.  Lingham"  in  the  criticisms  sounded 
so  successful,  so  secure  ;  he  sounded  so  aloof  from 
the  herd  that  struggled.  If  she  had  read  criti- 
cisms of  his  work  before  she  met  him,  in  how 
different  an  environment  she  would  have  pictured 
''  Mr.  Lingham  "  !  Surely  the  critics  themselves 
would  gasp  to  learn  what  his  capital  was. 

His  gossip  for  the  paper  was  now  at  its  best. 
At  the  onset  it  had  been  a  trifle  rigid,  though 
never  so  bad  as  he  had  thougrht  it.  During  the 
period  of  his  immersion  in  the  comedy  it  had 
become  a  shade  careless  ;  to-day  he  was  beyond 
question  worth  his  salary — so  there  was  no  moral 
to  be  adduced  from  the  thing  that  happened.  He 
was  dismissed.  He  was  to  be  supplanted  by  the 
proprietors  nephew,  for  whom  the  proprietors 
daughter  felt  a  more  than  cousinly  interest.  Of 

187 


when  Love  Flies 


course,  Ralph  did  not  hear  that ;  he  merely  received 
a  vague  and  courteous  note.  An  editor  regrets'' 
mechanically ;  he  regrets  "  that  he  cannot  make 
use  of  a  story  that  he  does  not  like  ;  he  regrets" 
that  the  manuscript  he  has  kept  for  a  year  has  not 
appeared  yet,  when  he  apprises  the  contributor 
that  it  will  be  paid  for  on  the  thirtieth  day  of  the 
second  month  after  publication  ;  and  the  editor 
of  The  Other  Side  regretted  to  inform  Mr.  Ling- 
ham  that  arrangements  were  being  made  which 
would  prevent  their  retaining  his  services  later 
than  the  3rd  proximo. 

The  loss  of  two  guineas  a  week  could  scarcely 
have  been  a  greater  shock  to  anybody.  The  bolt 
fell  from  the  blue  of  August,  and  now  the  corre- 
spondent s  capital  was  about  thirty-five  pounds. 
He  had  often  had  considerably  less,  and  esteemed 
himself  well  provided  for ;  but  then  he  had  been 
a  bachelor.  Thirty-five  pounds,  a  comedy  likely 
to  be  rejected  at  the  Pall  Mall,  and  an  inchoate 
novel  in  his  head.  And  he  had  a  wife  to  keep ! 
He  smoked  hard. 

How  long  do  you  reckon  the  novel  will  take 
to  write  ? she  asked,  rallying. 

''Nine  months,  I'm  afraid.  I've  never  been 
able  to  write  one  more  quickly  yet.  Of  course, 
if  the  last  has  sold  decently  we  can  jog  along  for 

188 


Out  o'  the  Window 


nine  months — there  will  be  royalties  to  come  to 
us  in  October.  But  if  it  hasn't,  I  don't  see  at 
the  moment  what  we  are  going  to  do.  It  evi- 
dently hasn't  been  a  boom.  .  .  .  Still,  we  won't  howl 
yet.  I  must  tear  the  plot  out  as  soon  as  I  can, 
and  we'll  listen  to  the  flattering  tale  of  hope. 
.  .  .  Well,  I  suppose  we  had  better  go  back  to 
London,  eh,  pard.^    Nobody  wants  us  here." 

There  seems  nothing  to  stay  for,"  she  assented 
slowly.  Till  then  she  had  not  recognised  the 
fact,  and  the  crash  reverberated. 

Nothing.  Besides  in  London  I  can  bustle 
about  Angela — and  save  the  difference  between 
the  postage  rates !  A  penny  saved  is  something 
— proverbial." 

Yes,  of  course,"  she  said.  Now  the  play  is 
done,  you  ought  to  be  on  the  spot.  And  you 
might  get  on  another  paper  there." 

I  don't  think  there  is  much  chance  of  that. 
The  Other  Side  was  a  sheer  fluke.  I  might  make 
the  attempt,  but  you  could  throw  a  net  in  Fleet 
Street  and  catch  a  haul  of  better  journalists 
than  I  am  with  your  eyes  shut ;  and  all  in  deep 
waters." 

''We  shall  manage,"  she  said.  ''As  soon  as 
we  get  back  I  shall  try  for  a  town  engagement. 
If  I  get  thirty  shillings  a  week,  it  will  be  a  help." 

189 


when  Love  Flies 


Lingham  burnt  his  fingers  with  a  match.  You 
will  what  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  Good  God  !  I 
wouldn't  let  you  go  on  the  stage  again  for  any 
money  that  could  be  named.  No,  my  love  ;  /'II 
find  the  bread  and  butter,  thank  you,  if  I  have 
to  kill  an  editor  to  do  it.  The  action  would  be 
twice  blessed.  If  I  were  a  potentate  I  would 
send  out  emissaries  to  collect  editors,  and  then 
I  would  make  a  bonfire  of  them  in  my  park ! " 

If  I  could  get  thirty  shillings  a  week  in  town, 
look  what  it  would  mean  to  us ! "  she  persisted. 

There  are  heaps  of  married  women  in  the 
chorus,  Ralph;  and  nice  women,  too." 

'*Yes,  I  daresay.  IVe  no  doubt  there  are 
plenty  of  women  on  the  stage  whose  husbands 
are  content  never  to  do  a  stroke  of  work.  '  The 
husband  of  Milly  de  Vere ! '  /'m  not  in  that 
galley.  Don't  be  silly,  baby!  At  the  worst  I'll 
go  to  Alport  and  ask  him  to  advance  fifty  pounds 
on  the  first  two  chapters.  Where  there's  a  wife, 
there's  a  way.  Thank  goodness  there  are  only 
two  of  us  to  think  about !  " 

After  this  they  bought  the  Telegraph  every 
evening,  and  scanned  the  columns  headed  Board 
and  Apartments  to  be  let."  The  heat  was  intense 
now,  and  though  they  were  sorry  to  say  'good- 
bye '  to  Paris,  they  were  not  so  acutely  sorry  as 

190 


Out  o'  the  Window 


they  would  have  been  three  months  earlier.  As 
the  jar  of  the  news  subsided,  they  regained  their 
cheerfulness.  Only  Madame  Goigoux  was  in- 
consolable. She  protested  that  she  should  never 
forget  them  ;  and  if  they  ever  wanted  the  rooms 
again — Cest  que  ge  me  rendait  contente — mais 
contente  ! "  But  one  line,  and  they  should  be 
ready ;  yes,  even  though  they  were  let  to  un 
avantage  incroyable  !  " 

When  their  plans  crystallised,  they  decided  to 
go  into  a  boarding-house  for  a  few  days  while 
they  looked  for  lodgings.  On  the  evening  before 
they  crossed  they  spent  ten  francs.  They  couldn't 
afford  it,  but  it  was  their  last  night  in  Paris  ;  and 
they  would  store  another  memory !  They  went 
to  the  Ambassadeurs,  and  drank  iced  sirops  under 
the  trees  ;  and  then  they  took  their  farewell  stroll 
along  the  boulevards,  and  syphons  made  music 
for  them  again  outside  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix.  But 
who  admits  that  he  bids  ''farewell"  to  Paris? 

We  shall  often  come  back,''  they  said,  as  they 
sat  there  ;  very  likely  we  shall  run  over  soon  ! " 
And  then,  as  they  passed  the  shining  courtyard 
of  the  'Grand,'  "Perhaps  Angela  will  make  thou- 
sands for  us  ;  we  may  come  over  in  the  spring, 
and  stay  at  the  '  Grand  ' !  " 

It  was  hot  in  London,  too,  when  they  arrived, 
191 


when  Love  Flies 


though  cooler  than  it  had  been  in  Paris.  After 
the  Swiss  youth  had  handed  round  the  coffee, 
they  left  the  boarding-house,  and  walked  down 
Bedford  Place.  The  moon  looked  the  same  as  it 
had  looked  the  night  before.  They  would  have 
felt  less  sad  if  it  had  looked  different.  They  were 
very  lonely  in  the  long,  gaunt  streets.  They  had 
come  home,  but  they  were  ''homesick."  A  regret 
which  each  strove  to  hide  from  the  other  filled 
the  man  with  forebodings,  and  brought  a  lump  to 
the  girl's  throat.  How  colourless  everything  was! 
She  had  noticed  it  in  the  drive  from  Victoria. 
The  grim  frontages,  the  mean,  flat  windows,  the 
dreary  faces  of  the  people  moving  in  the  half-lit 
streets  reminded  her  of  the  comments  of  Le 
Beau.  Dear  little  salon  in  la  Rue  Poncelet ! 
There  would  be  no  lamp  in  it  to-night ;  it  was 
standing  empty  and  dark ! 

At  the  dressing-table  of  the  bedroom  it  was 
almost  impossible  for  Lingham  to  work,  and  time 
pressed,  so  they  made  haste  to  seek  more  per- 
manent quarters.  The  gentility  of  the  advertisers 
in  the  Telegraph,  which  forbade  them  to  cite  their 
terms,  intensified  the  difficulty  of  discovering 
suitable  lodgings  at  a  satisfactory  rent,  and 
''moderate''  in  London  proved  to  be  quite  as 
deceptive  as  "charming"  had  been  in  Paris.  He 

192 


Out  o'  the  Window 


and  Meenie  had  agreed  that  they  would  be  wise 
to  ring  bells  within  walking  distance,  instead  of 
paying  fares  to  make  inquiries  in  Clapham  and 
Shepherd's  Bush,  and  eventually  they  rang  one 
in  Gower  Street. 

The  arrangement  proposed  here  was  on  much 
the  same  lines  as  the  one  they  had  had  with 
Madame  Goigoux,  only  they  were  to  take  their 
meals  in  the  landlady's  room.  They  did  not 
object  to  the  suggestion  at  all,  for  it  would  avert 
the  rattling  of  cutlery  over  Lingham  while  he 
was  trying  to  write.  She  was  a  rather  pretty 
little  brunette,  smartly  dressed,  and  perhaps  just 
touched  with  rouge.  They  understood  her  name 
to  be  Mrs.  Kisch,  but,  being  an  Hungarian,  she 
spelt  it  '*Kiss."  Her  English,  though  it  lacked 
adverbs,  was  fluent,  and  she  explained,  with 
animation,  that  she  would  accept  three  pounds 
ten  a  week  inclusive  of  board,  because  she  was 
trying  to  dispose  of  the  business,  and  did  not 
want  her  apartments  to  be  vacant  just  now. 

They  moved  in  at  once,  and  occupied  two  com- 
municating rooms  on  the  first  floor.  Certainly 
the  construction  was  ridiculous  ;  the  sitting-room 
was  so  small  that  they  had  to  squeeze  round  the 
table,  while  the  bedroom,  overlooking  back  gar- 
dens, was  as  wide  as  the  house,  with  three  long 
N  193 


When  Love  Flies 


windows ;  but  for  Gower  Street  the  terms  were 
extremely  low. 

When  they  went  down  to  dinner  on  the  first 
evening  they  found  Mrs.  Kiss  in  a  low-necked 
gown — dispensing  the  whiting — and  a  miniature 
man,  whom  they  seemed  to  be  viewing  through 
the  wrong  end  of  an  opera  glass,  prepared  to 
take  her  to  the  theatre.  His  name  was  Mr. 
Friedman,  they  learnt ;  and  on  the  morrow  Mrs. 
Kiss  confided  to  Meenie  that  she  was'  going  to 
be  married  to  him,  and  that  his  parents,  who 
lived  in  Hamburg,  thought  it  very  wrong  for 
him  to  be  lodging  here  in  the  meanwhile.  She 
hoped,  with  appealing  eyes,  that  Meenie  did  not 
think  so  too.  The  poor  fellow  was  a  stranger 
in  London,  and  she  was  *'so  dreadful  sorry  for 
him ! Emmie,  the  housemaid,  subsequently 
implied  a  different  story,  but  one  should  never 
listen  to  the  gossip  of  servants. 

The  day  after  the  incoming  Ralph  called  on 
his  publishers,  to  ascertain  how  much  money  he 
was  likely  to  receive  the  following  month.  To 
his  dismay  he  learnt  that  the  sale  of  the  book 
had  so  disappointed  the  firm  that  they  were  out 
of  pocket  by  the  hundred  pounds  which  had 
been  paid  to  him  on  account.  The  fate  of  the 
piece  at  the  Pall  Mall  was  therefore  an  urgent 

194 


Out  o'  the  Window 


matter,  and  as  soon  as  he  returned  he  wrote  to 
the  manager  giving  him  the  new  address,  and 
inquiring  if  he  had  had  time  to  read  it  yet.  The 
question  remained  unanswered,  but  the  next 
afternoon  the  four  attractive  acts  with  pink  bows 
came  back.  Evidently/'  said  Meenie,  ^'he  has 
no^  read  them.''  She  packed  them  up  again 
without  loss  of  time,  and  they  were  despatched 
to  the  Sovereignty. 

There  was  a  little  furrow  on  the  girls  brow 
that  night  when  she  went  down  to  dinner,  and 
the  man  looked  thoughtful.  Mrs.  Kiss  was 
decked  with  flowers  which  Mr.  Friedman  had 
sent  home  to  console  her  for  his  detention  in  the 
city ;  and  she  told  them,  in  her  pretty  artless 
way,  that  her  claret  came  from  a  friend  in  the 
trade,  and  she  could  let  them  have  it  at  a 
shilling  a  bottle  if  they  liked,  but  that  they 
mustn't  mention  the  price  they  were  paying,  be- 
cause she  charged  her  lover  one-and-ninepence. 
After  dinner  Ralph  drove  a  lazy  pen. 

The  circumstances  were  not  favourable  to  the 
invention  of  a  plot.  The  knowledge  that  they 
would  have  spent  their  last  pound  in  about  six 
weeks,  unless  something  unexpected  happened, 
was  not  stimulating  to  the  imagination.  The 
opening  chapter  of  the  indeterminate  novel  was 

195 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


progressing  by  such  painful  steps  that  he  couldn't 
help  dwelling  more  on  the  comedy  that  was 
finished  than  on  the  task  which  had  to  be  done. 
He  had  never  commenced  a  story  hitherto  until 
the  scheme  was  clear  in  his  mind  ;  and  to  make 
people  talk  before  he  was  certain  what  roles 
they  were  going  to  play  affrighted  him.  From 
Bedford  Place  he  had  forwarded  Meenie  s  copy 
of  Angela  Brown  to  Parlett,  and  he  was  eager 
to  have  his  opinion  of  it  now  that  the  manuscript 
was  complete.  The  following  morning  he  be- 
took himself  to  his  friend's  to  be  encouraged. 


196 


CHAPTER  XVII 


ARLETT  lived  in  Belsize  Avenue.  He 
had  made  a  fortune  by  his  plays,  and  spent 


it ;  to-day  he  was  making  a  large  income,  and 
spent  that.  His  coupe  was  as  smart  a  little 
equipage  as  could  be  built ;  his  horses  were  the 
envy  of  his  neighbours,  and  his  coachman  did 
such  credit  to  the  livery  that,  though  he  always 
failed  to  find  the  stage-doors,  and  met  remon- 
strance by  the  retort  that  he  had  been  used  to 
driving  in  Belgravia,  the  dramatist  hadn't  the 
courage  to  discharge  him. 

The  house-servants  were  all  women ;  and  so 
trim  and  neat  were  they,  so  immaculately  was 
the  silver  kept,  and  so  blooming"  were  the 
window-boxes,  that  no  stranger  would  have 
believed  it  to  be  a  bachelor  s  residence.  When 
the  parlour-maid  admitted  Ralph,  she  exclaimed  : 

*'Oh,  Mr.  Lingham,  sir,  you  are  a  stranger! 
Master's  in  the  study  being  shaved.  He'll  be 
so  pleased  you've  come." 

How  is  he,  Annie  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  cap  dolefully.      Dr.  Hutton  is 
197 


when  Love  Flies 


in  there ;  he  calls  just  the  same,  sir.  Master  s 
been  very  bad  lately." 

Parlett  was  seated  in  a  chair  with  a  towel 
round  his  neck,  and  while  the  hairdressers 
assistant  trimmed  his  beard,  the  medical  man 
was  listening  sympathetically  to  an  account  of 
his  dyspepsia.  He  had  listened  to  it  once  or 
twice  a  week  for  ten  years.  At  Lingham  s 
entrance  he  looked  relieved.  The  playwright 
tendered  a  languid  hand,  which  contrasted  oddly 
with  the  pleasure  in  his  eyes,  and  began  to  put 
questions.  He  had  a  habit  of  referring  to 
intimate  matters  before  strangers  as  freely  as  the 
lady  who  couldn't  regard  a  servant  as  a  man 
admitted  the  flunkey  to  her  bathroom  ;  some  of 
his  inquiries,  especially  those  he  made  after  the 
doctor  had  taken  his  departure,  were  discom- 
posing. 

However,  he  thought  well  of  Angela  Brown — 
Publisher,  and  that  was  a  huge  relief. 

What  have  you  done  with  it  ? he  asked. 
''Its  at  the  Sovereignty  now ;  it  came  back 
from  the  Pall  Mall  the  other  day.    Do  you  think 
I  shall  place  it  ? 

Ask  me  another,*'  said  the  man  of  experience. 
^'Whats  the  good  of  writing  a  play  without  a 
commission,  anyhow  ?    All  these  theatres  have 

198 


Out       the  Window 


got  their  arrangements  made  for  two  or  three 
years  ahead.  You  want  to  be  in  the  swim  to 
place  a  play."  One  of  his  mannerisms  was  to 
emphasise  words  in  falsetto.  If  you  aren't  in 
the  swim  you  ve  got  to  dodge  about,  and  find 
out  where  there's  a  hitch,  and  jump  in  where 
there's  a  failure.  You  can't  place  a  play  as  you 
can  a  novel,  through  the  post.  .  .  .  Good-bye, 
Sweeney  Tod."    The  barber  went  out,  grinning. 

**What  did  you  advise  me  to  write  it  for 
then  }  "  said  Lingham. 

^^Oh,  don't  be  a  fool,"  replied  Parlett.  'Mf 
I  had  choked  you  off,  what  would  you  have 
said.f^  You  would  always  have  reproached  me. 
You  would  have  said,  '  It  might  have  been  a 
great  success,  and  you  wouldn't  let  me  write  it.'" 
Rot !  "  returned  Lingham  sourly.  Well, 
how  are  you?" 

Parlett  banged  himself  in  the  stomach.  ''I'm 
swollen,"  he  said,  swollen!  As  soon  as  I  eat 
I  get  big.  Look  at  my  waistcoat ;  I  can't  get 
a  finger  under  it !  It  hung  on  me  when  I  came 
down  this  morning.  Nobody  knows  what  agony 
I'm  in;  my  life  is  a  curse.  I've  a  comic 
opera  to  deliver  directly,  and  not  half  of  it  is 
done.  The  company  is  engaged !  the  composer 
is  waiting  for  the  lyrics!  and  I  can't  write — I 

199 


When  Love  Flies 


can't  think!  How  can  I  work  when  I'm  in  pain 
all  day  ?  You  don't  suffer  from  dyspepsia,  do 
you  ?  " 

Lingham  shook  his  head.     ''Not  from  that." 

Parlett  looked  disappointed.  I  don't  know," 
he  said  with  a  groan,  I  don't  know  what  will 
be  the  end.  I  see  nothing  before  me.  When  a 
man's  health  is  gone  he's  ruined.  I  shall  die 
in  the  workhouse.  My  God !  I  shall  die  in  the 
workhouse.  There's  nothinof  to  smile  at.  Here's 
a  bill  for — for  five  pounds  come  in  ;  I  shall  never 
make  five  pounds  again.  It's  a  very  serious  state 
of  things,  boy!  It's  all  right  for  you;  your  ex- 
penses aren't  like  mine.  I  paid  Bird  a  hundred 
pounds  yesterday.  It's  a  lot  of  money." 
What  Bird      Your  collaborator  ?  " 

''  Yes,  the  piece  I  did  with  him  is  running  in 
New  York  now ;  I  got  a  draft  for  two  hundred 
the  other  day  for  fees.  I  paid  Bird  a  hundred 
pounds  yesterday." 

"  You  mean  that  his  work  paid  him.  In  other 
words,  you  and  he  have  been  having  a  jolly  good 
week  together ! " 

''  I  paid  Bird  a  hundred  pounds  yesterday," 
reiterated  Parlett,  sunk  in  gloom.  ''A  hundred 
pounds  is  a  lot  of  money.  It's  all  right  for  you ; 
yours  is  an  ideal  existence  !  " 

200 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Lingham  did  not  speak. 

''An  ideal  existence!  In  nice  lodgings,  with 
a  little  wife  to  talk  to  in  the  evening — beautiful ! 
Bohemian !  I  can't  afford  to  marry.  I  see 
nobody,  I  go  nowhere ;  I  haven't  been  to  the 
Cafe  Royal  for  a  month.''  From  the  falsetto  his 
voice  dropped  to  a  deep  declamatory  pathos.  I 
sit  here  alone  at  night,  Ralph,  in  this  great  silent 
house,  with  the  wind  wailing  in  the  chimney,  and 
I  think  that  I  would  give  all  my  miserable  life 
to  know,  but  for  one  hour,  the  joy  of  health  and 
love."  His  arm,  extended  in  a  dramatic  gesture, 
remained  outstretched  ;  it  was  evident  that  his 
words  had  recalled  a  pleasanter  theme  to  his 
mind.  A  smile  lit  his  face  ;  in  an  instant  he  was 
a  lad — eager,  delightful.  Let  me  read  you  a 
lyric  I've  written  for  the  opera!  "he  exclaimed, 
bustling.  *  O  joy  of  love,  O  love  avowed  ' — 
I  want  to  hear  what  you  think." 

He  showered  manuscripts  all  over  the  desk, 
but  could  not  see  the  one  he  was  seeking.  The 
parlour-maid,  and  then  a  lady  stenographer,  were 
summoned  to  hunt  for  it,  and  at  last  it  was  found 
in  a  pocket  in  his  bedroom. 

Like  Lingham  he  was  passionately  fond  of 
music,  but  had  neither  a  musical  ear,  nor  a  note 
in  his  voice.    He  chanted  the  lyric  in  a  dis- 

20I 


when  Love  Flies 


cordant  quaver  which  he  believed  to  be  the 
composer  s  setting. 

When  he  finished  he  raised  a  questioning  gaze. 
The  lines  are  very  pretty  indeed.    How  about 
the  dialogue  ;  is  that  good  ? 

'  O  joy  of  love,  O  love  avowed ' — see  how 
they  open  the  mouth !  Wait  a  minute  !  I  must 
read  you  my  patriotic  song.  I  haven't  done  the 
second  verse  yet ;  this  is  the  first — 

"  *  We  have  sung  to  the  peril  and  pluck  of  the  tar, 

And  weVe  toasted  our  Tommy  in  red, 
But  it's  women  who  make  them  the  men  that  they  are. 

And  now  here's  to  our  women  instead ! 
Oh,  it's  well  that  old  England  should  ring  with  a  lay 

To  the  heroes  who  carry  her  guns, 
But  let's  gather  a  spray  of  the  laurel  and  bay 

For  the  women  who  give  her  the  sons  ! ' 

Now  comes  the  refrain — 

"  '  For  the  women  of  England, 

And  all  the  land  ! 
To  the  women  of  England, 

Our  hat  in  hand  ! 
For  they're  loyal  and  they're  game. 
And  they  build  their  boys  the  same ; 

It's  our  women  make  the  little  island  grand.' " 

''I  don  t  like  'Our  hat  in  hand,'"  said  Lingham. 

Parlett,  who  was  red  in  the  face,  for  he  had 
imagined  himself  the  baritone,  and  had  been 
acting  the  song  as  well  as  shouting  it,  made  a 

202 


Out  o'  the  Window 


cross  against  the  line.  The  almost  childish 
humility  with  which  he  accepted  anybody's 
criticism  of  his  work  and  his  faults  was  one 
of  his  most  lovable  traits. 

It  isn't  good,"  he  said,  ''but  I  couldn't  find  a 
better  rhyme  to  'land'  and  *  grand.'  I  think 
that  ought  to  be  an  encore,  eh?  The  women 
will  like  that.  '  It's  our  women  make  the  little 
island  grand  ! '  "  he  shouted  again. 

''/had  an  idea  for  a  lyric  the  other  day,"  said 
Lingham,  "only  I  don't  write  comic  operas.  The 
heroine's  sweetheart  is  a  sailor,  and  she  sings  to 
one  of  those  spiral  shells — 

"  *0h,  silver  shell  from  the  something  shore, 
With  the  roar  of  the  sea  inside  you.' 

"  She  holds  it  to  her  ear,  and  wonders  how 
her  gallant  William  fares,  and  whether  there's  a 
storm.    You  know!" 

"It  would  look  rather  as  if  she'd  got  an  ear- 
trumpet  up,  wouldn't  it  ?  "  said  Parlett  doubtfully. 
"How  do  you  like  my  title,  A  Ring  d  Roses  ? 
I  use  the  nursery  rhyme — 

"  *A  ring,  a  ring  o'  roses, 
A  pocketful  o'  posies, 
Atishoo !    Atishoo ! 
We  all  fall  down/ 

"All  the  girls  fall  into  the  pages'  arms.  That's 

203 


when  Love  Flies 


going  to  be  a  big  number.  Vanderhoff  has  got 
some  new  effect  in  the  orchestra  for  the  sneeze/' 

''Where  is  this  masterpiece  to  be  produced?" 
Liverpool,  my  boy,  in  November,  if  I  ever 
get   through !    Well,   tell   me   about  yourself. 
When  am  I  going  to  see  your  wife  ? 
Come  to  see  us  as  soon  as  you  can.'' 

*'  I  never  go  ou^,''  cried  Parlett ;  I  never  have 
^zme  to  go  out !  I  haven't  seen  my  horses  for 
a  week ;  they're  eating  their  heads  off.  That 
damned  coachman  has  just  had  the  stables  done 
up,  too  ;  I  told  him  to  have  his  rooms  put  right. 
My  God,  he's  had  his  parlour  papered  in  pink 
and  gold!  I  can  never /^jk  for  it!  Here  I  am, 
a  swollen,  helpless  wreck,  toiling  till  three  in  the 
morning  to  meet  my  taxes — to  meet  my  ^azes, 
Ralph !  —  and  the  coachman  has  his  parlour 
papered  in  pink  and  gold !  Oh,  it's  cruel,  it's 
cruel,  it's  cruel,  it's  heart-breaking!  "  He  clasped 
his  hands  and  gibbered  over  them. 

''If  you  never  see  your  horses,  and  you're  so 
hard  up,  why  not  sell  them?"  suggested  Lingham. 

"  I  never  sold  a  horse  or  a  dog  in  my  life. 
Will  you  bring  her  to  lunch  to-day — your  wife, 
I  mean?  I  wonder  whether  I'm  lunching  at 
home.    Where's  Annie  ?  " 

In  five  years'  intimate  acquaintance  Lingham 
204 


Out  o'  the  Window 


had  never  seen  him  ring  a  bell,  and  now  he  went 
to  the  top  of  the  kitchen  stairs  to  inquire  whether 
he  was  expected  to  lunch  at  home.  His  luncheons, 
which  he  generally  took  at  restaurants,  were  in 
truth  his  dinners,  for  at  seven  o'clock  he  sat  down 
to  work,  and  a  heavy  meal  in  the  evening  would 
have  made  him  lazy. 

He  learnt  that  overnight  he  had  expressed  the 
intention  of  lunching  out  to-day  unless  it  rained, 
and  he  immediately  begged  Ralph  to  bring  his 
wife  to  Dolibo  s.  Though  Lingham  was  afraid 
that  Meenie  would  feel  misgivings  about  her 
costume,  he  consented,  and  Parlett  telephoned  to 
the  stables  that  the  victoria  was  to  come  round  at 
once.    Annie,  as  usual,  buttoned  his  boots. 

They  drove  to  Gower  Street  together,  with 
Angela  on  the  back  seat,  and  Lingham  was 
proud  to  see  the  impression  that  Meenie  created 
as  soon  as  she  recovered  from  her  surprise. 
Parlett  was  prepared  to  rave  about  any  woman 
at  sight,  but  this  was  evidently  more  than  tran- 
sient approval.  With  the  sitting-room,  abounding 
in  defects — boards  that  started  under  the  foot, 
and  let  off  reports  like  the  crack  of  a  rifle  ;  a 
table  that  groaned  when  one  wrote  at  it — he  was 
charmed.  The  girl,  who  did  not  know  him, 
thought  he  was  carrying  courtesy  too  far  when 

205 


when  Love  Flies 


he  declared  enviously  that  here  his  ideas  would 
flow  like  wine  from  a  cask.  But  he  was  quite 
sincere — while  he  spoke — and  almost  believed 
that  his  horses,  and  his  house,  and  the  luxuries 
that  he  was  slaving  and  ruining  his  health  to 
retain,  were  worthless  to  him. 

From  the  restaurant  he  insisted  on  their  return- 
ing to  Belsize  Avenue  to  tea,  and  when  they 
entered  they  found  Mr.  Vanderhoff  awaiting  him. 
It  was  an  exciting  experience  to  her  to  loll  in 
Spencer  Parletts  drawing-room,  and  listen  to 
Albert  Vanderhoff  strumming  snatches  of  his 
operas.  She  smiled  in  contrasting  the  situation 
with  the  way  she  might  have  met  them  both  a 
year  ago.  With  what  awe  she  would  have  ad- 
dressed them  then !  And  Albert  Vanderhoff 
passed  the  cake  to  her !  They  were  quite  simple, 
quite  like  anybody  else. 

She  wondered  if  Parlett  knew  that  she  had 
been  in  the  profession,"  but  presently  he  asked 
her  if  she  sang,  and  she  understood  that  Lingham 
had  not  told  him. 

Yes,''  she  said,    but  not  here  !  " 

He  burlesqued  an  attitude  of  deprecation. 
Vanderhoff  could  do  no  less  than  offer  to  accom- 
pany her ;  and  as  Lingham  evidently  wished  her 
to  accede,  she  went  to  the  piano.    The  moselle- 

206 


Out  o'  the  Window 


cup  at  Dolibo  s  had  been  good,  and  she  was 
exhilarated  by  her  social  success.  When  the 
composer  asked  her  what  she  would  sing,  she 
had  the  courage  to  name  a  ballad  out  of  his  and 
Parletts  Flo  de  Cologne.  Instantly  he  was  all 
attention,  and  Parlett,  who  justly  believed  that 
ballad  to  contain  the  best  love  verses  he  had 
ever  written,  looked  as  interested  as  a  child  at 
the  pantomime. 

She  had  quite  a  triumph,  even  after  she  allowed 
a  discount  for  politeness.  Vanderhoff  paid  her 
compliments  in  his  foreign  English,  and  Parlett, 
who  of  course  regarded  her  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  librettist,  waxed  enthusiastic. 

But,  my  boy,  my  boy,"  he  cried  to  Lingham, 
*'the  feeling,  the  sentiment!  And  every  word 
tells — she  gives  every  word  its  value  I  Its  a 
pleasure  to  hear  her,  it  s  a  delight.  She  ought 
to  have  been  on  the  stage.  What  do  you  say, 
Albert  ?  Wouldn't  she  have  made  a  career  ^ 
Wouldn't  she  have  been  a  treat  to  write  for  ?  " 

Vanderhoff  admitted  that  Madame  had  a  very 
sympathetic  voice. 

But  she's  an  actress  !  "  He  turned  to  Meenie. 

You  don't  know  that ;  /  watched  your  face ! 
You  speak  with  your  face.  You're  very  clever, 
you're  an  artist ;  you've  got  it  here  !  " 

207 


when  Love  Flies 


My  wife  has  been  on  the  stage,"  murmured 
Lingham  ;  ''but  not  for  long ;  only  for  a  year  or 
two/' 

''Aha!''  Parlett  spread  his  arms,  as  one  who 
says,  "  Behold  my  intuition  !  " 

"  I  never  did  any  good,"  laughed  Meenie  ;  "  the 
other  people  didn't  agree  with  you  ! " 

He  tapped  his  chest  and  held  up  three  fingers. 
"  Three  !  "  he  said.  "  Three  women  I've  brought 
to  the  front  out  of  the  ranks.  That's  my  gift ; 
it's  a  peculiar  gift  of  mine.  Do  you  know  that  ? 
I  can  see  an  extra-girl  cross  the  stage,  and  spot 
it  if  she  has  talent.  It's  a  wonderful  faculty 
I  have.  Do  you  know  that,  Ralph  ?  Not  many 
men  have  got  it.  It's  a  very  highly  developed 
nervous  sensibility.  I  respond.  Just  in  the  same 
way  I  have  an  extraordinary  power  of  communi- 
cating emotion.  Do  you  know  that,  Albert? 
It's  inborn.  You  can't  acquire  it.  It  astonishes 
people." 

At  this  point  Mr.  Vanderhoff,  who,  being  a 
musician,  had  his  own  vanities,  struck  loud 
chords  to  call  attention  to  himself,  and  with 
profound  emotion,  but  a  small  voice,  sang  another 
of  his  compositions. 

Though  Lingham  and  Meenie  soon  rose  to  go, 
it  was  he  who  left  first.    The  dramatist  had  five 

208 


Out  o'  the  Window 


minutes'  conference  with  him  in  the  hall ;  then, 
returning  to  the  room,  was  seized  with  a  desire 
to  take  a  stroll  before  he  went  to  his  desk. 

In  the  warm  twilight  the  three  sauntered  to 
the  Heath.  Already  he  appeared  to  her  a  mass 
of  contradictions,  and  now,  if  she  had  been  un- 
married, the  girl  would  have  allowed  herself  to 
fall  in  love  with  him.  The  ardour  with  which 
he  spoke  of  other  men  s  work,  and  the  modesty 
with  which  he  judged  his  own,  was  startling ;  she 
thought  at  first  he  must  be  in  jest.  The  poetry  in 
the  man,  his  enthusiasms,  made  his  companionship 
in  some  of  his  moods  ideal.  More  widely  read 
than  many  w^ho  posed  as  cultured,  he  seemed  to 
her  to  be  steeped  in  the  literature  of  the  world  ; 
yet  withal  he  was  a  boy.  When  he  quoted,  it  was 
never  the  delivery  of  a  scholar  being  instructive, 
but  the  leaping  utterance  of  an  artist,  young,  fer- 
vent, Bohemian,  glowing  at  the  city  from  an  attic 
window,  with  a  pen,  and  a  brave  heart. 

To  talk  to  him  often  stimulated  Lingham.  It 
stimulated  him  this  evening.  When  they  got 
back  to  the  lodging,  he  made  a  dash  at  the  diffi- 
culties of  Chapter  I.,  and  completed  it  to  his 
satisfaction  before  he  went  to  bed.  Moreover, 
he  decided  to  ask  the  publishers  for  an  advance 
of  fifty  pounds  immediately.  Why  wait?  It 
o  209 


When  Love  Flies 


would  be  a  distasteful  errand,  but  there  was 
small  doubt  that  it  would  have  to  be  accom- 
plished sooner  or  later,  and  the  knowledge  of 
being  secure  for  a  few  months  would  be  fortifying. 

''Though  even  fifty  pounds,''  he  said,  ''won't 
keep  us  going  till  the  book  is  done.  With  what 
we  have  left  we  shall  be  able  to  go  on  for — how 
long,  pard  ?  " 

She  was  rather  worse  at  arithmetic  than  he, 
and  her  pencil  never  had  a  point  to  it.  Notice- 
able peculiarities  :  her  pencil  never  had  a  point, 
and  her  purse  was  always  in  the  pocket  of  a  skirt 
that  she  hadn't  got  on.  After  ten  minutes,  how- 
ever, she  announced  that  with  an  addition  of 
fifty  pounds  they  could  pay  their  way  for  about 
five  months. 

"And  in  five  months,"  she  said,  "anything 
may  happen !  Besides,  they  might  let  you  have 
more  if  you  asked  for  it." 

"They  have  lost  money  over  the  last  one  ; 
I  don't  think  they'd  feel  inclined  to  part  with 
a  hundred  again.  And  then,  that  was  finished 
when  I  got  the  hundred  ;  no,  I  think  fifty  is  all 
I  can  ask  for ;  I  daresay  I  shall  get  that." 

One  is  often  sanguine  at  night.  When  he 
shaved,  he  was  less  confident.  He  wished  that 
he  had  broached  the  subject  when  he  called  upon 

2IO 


Out  o'  the  Window 


them  earlier  in  the  week ;  in  conversation  he 
could  have  approached  it  gradually,  and  now 
he  would  have  to  blurt  it  out.  He  breakfasted 
without  relish,  and  upstairs  Meenie  hung  about 
him,  and  wished  him  luck. 

When  he  reached  the  offices  of  Messrs.  Alport 
and  Son,  one  of  the  clerks  whistled  through  a 
tube,  and  requested  him  to  take  a  seat  until 
Mr.  Alport,  junr.,  was  disengaged.  The  father 
seldom  came  to  town  now.  There  was  a  girl 
with  a  pale  face,  and  a  parcel,  waiting  too — a 
beginner,  tremulous,  shabby,  full  of  illusions  yet, 
nursing  her  first  novel  with  unspoken  prayers. 
Presently  the  clerk  came  back,  and  said,  "  Will 
you  step  this  way,  Mr.  Lingham?''  And  the  girl 
flashed  a  curious  glance — half  admiration  and 
half  envy — as  the  name  fell.  It  was  rather 
piteous.  Lingham  wondered  whether  she  could 
be  much  worse  off  than  he  was. 

Mr.  Alport  was  a  man  of  about  Lingham  s  own 
age,  with  the  Oxford  voice  and  literary  tastes. 
As  the  girl  had  envied  the  novelist,  the  novelist 
had  often  envied  his  publisher ;  and  the  young 
man  with  the  money  had  also  his  struggles.  He 
struggled  with  a  temperament.  His  destiny  was 
to  conduct  a  business  on  strictly  commercial  lines, 
and  to  know  that  behind  his  back  he  was  abused 

211 


When  Love  Flies 


by  writers  whom  he  would  have  been  glad  to  call 
his  friends. 

He  offered  the  author  a  cigarette,  and  motioned 
to  an  armchair,  which  was  associated  in  his  mind 
with  many  distressing  interviews.  Lingham 
cleared  his  throat. 

You  didn  t  expect  to  see  me  again  so  soon, 
Mr.  Alport  ? he  said,  balancing  his  hat  on  his 
knee. 

Tm  always  pleased  to  have  a  visit  from  you, 
Mr.  Lingham.'' 

I  looked  in  because  IVe  a  book  on  the  stocks. 
Heaven  alone  knows  whether  it  will  sell,  but 
I  think  it  is  going  to  be  all  right." 

Is  the  brutal  middleman  to  hear  what  the 
theme  is  ?  " 

Yes,  I  want  to  talk  about  it."  He  gave  an 
outline.  The  tale  sounded  very  bald  to  him, 
reduced  to  halting  words,  but  Mr.  Alport  listened 
attentively,  and  nodded. 

''As  you  observe,"  he  said,  ''only  Heaven  can 
answer  for  the  public  !  Of  course,  it  s  excellent ; 
you  get  to  the  heart  of  things,  as  you  always  do. 
I  look  forward  to  reading  it.  If  everybody  ad- 
mired your  work  as  much  as  I  do,  Mr.  Lingham, 
you  would  find  me — like  Angela  Brown — an  ideal 
publisher." 

212 


Out  o'  the  Window 


''Would  you  care  to  give  me  a  commission  to 
write  it  ? asked  Lingham,  stroking  his  hat  the 
wrong  way. 

Mr.  Alport  winced.  He  drew  a  diagram  on 
the  blotting-pad. 

We  shall  see  it,  I  suppose  he  said.  You 
mean  to  give  us  the  first  refusal  of  it,  I  hope  ?  " 
His  tone  was  really  a  plea  to  the  other  not  to  say 
any  more ;  and  Lingham  understood  it,  and 
cursed  the  poverty  that  drove  him  on. 

I  should  like  the  commission,"  he  said.  ''  In 
plain  English,  I  want  fifty  pounds  on  the  signing 
of  the  contract.  You  can't  lose  by  that!  If  the 
thing  sells  well  or  not,  you  are  bound  to  get  fifty 
pounds  back.'' 

To  the  store  of  Alport  s  painful  memories  the 
armchair  had  contributed  another.  He  shook  his 
head. 

"When  its  finished,"  he  murmured,  I  have 
very  little  doubt  we  shall  be  able  to  meet  your 
views.  You  know  we  have  always  done  our  best." 
You  can't  meet  them  now,  eh  ?  " 

''  I  am  afraid  not.  With  every  wish  to  be 
amiable,  I  am  afraid  I  can't.  Forgive  my  saying 
so,  but  your  hand  might  lose  its  cunning ;  the 
plot,  after  all,  is  only  the  peg  to  hang  one's  ideas 
on.    If  you  will  bring  us  the  story  when  it  is 

213 


when  Love  Flies 


done,  Mr.  Lingham,  you  shall  have  an  answer 
within  three  days/'  He  rose.  I  trust  we  shall 
be  able  to  make  a  better  arrangement  for  you 
than  the  one  you  are  suggesting/' 

The  pale-faced  girl  was  waiting  still,  and  again 
she  regarded  the  author  jealously. 

He  tramped  back  in  the  blaze  of  noon  to  Gower 
Street.  His  wife  was  at  the  window ;  she  knew 
that  he  had  failed  by  the  way  his  figure  drooped. 
All  the  morning  she  had  considered  his  coming 
home  so ;  all  the  morning  she  had  been  chafing 
her  courage  to  combat  his  objections  and  to  cut 
the  knot. 

''It  didn't  come  off,"  he  said.  Don't  worry, 
darling  ;  we  shall  get  through  somehow !  " 

''Neither  of  us  is  going  to  worry,"  she  answered 
brightly.  "  It's  just  a  tangle  for  a  minute,  and 
if  we're  sensible,  and  chummy,  and  work  together, 
we  shall  straighten  it  out.  Ralph,  you  must  go 
and  ask  Mr.  Parlett  to  give  me  a  part  in  his 
opera.  It's  no  good  saying  you  won't ;  you  must. 
You  heard  what  he  said ;  ask  him  to  give  me 
a  part.  When  we're  in  smooth  waters  again, 
I'll  give  it  up  if  you  want  me  to ;  I'm  not 
ambitious  any  more.  But  I'm  not  going  to  sit 
down  and  see  you  grow  grey  with  anxiety  when 
I  can  help  it.    If  you  don't  go  to  him,  /  shall !  " 

He  kissed  her,  and  told  her  that  the  company 
214 


Out  o'  the  Window 


was  already  formed,  and  that  Parlett  wouldn^t 
entrust  a  part  to  a  novice,  even  if  he  were  asked  ; 
but  she  stood  firm. 

"Try,"  she  entreated. 
Meenie,"  he  exclaimed  doggedly,  ^*  I  won't 
have  you  go  back  to  the  stage  ! " 

But  it  s  necessary.  Oh,  my  dear  !  " — she 
clung  to  him — ''is  this  marriage,  is  it  fair  to  me? 
You  call  me  your  '  pard,'  and  you  won't  let  me 
help  in  our  home !  Its  the  only  way  ;  can't  you 
see  that  it's  the  only  way  ?  Let  us  go  through 
life  hand-in-hand,  dear !  " 

Then  he  caught  her  close,  but  still  he  refused. 
It  isn't  the  only  way,"  he  said ;  ''it  shan't  be 
the  only  way !  We  have  over  five  weeks,  and  I 
can  get  money  as  soon  as  the  book  is  done.  Very 
well,  then,  I'll  do  it  in  five  weeks !  If  I  work  day 
and  night,  if  I  never  eat,  if  I  never  sleep,  I  '11  do 
it  in  the  time,  by  God !  " 

"This  isn't  marriage,"  she  stammered. 

"It's  me!"  he  cried,  ungrammatical  and  white. 
"Help  me,  don't  stop  me,  let  me  go  on  !  I'll  write 
as  long  as  I  can  write.  Other  men  could  do  it, 
why  shouldn't  I  ?  Promise  !  Give  me  your  word 
you'll  do  nothing  without  my  consent !  " 

So  she  promised.  But  she  wondered  why  man's 
love  and  woman's  should  be  such  different  things. 

215 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


A BELL  hung  outside  their  door.  Mrs.  Kiss 
used  it  to  call  Emmie  downstairs  when  she 
was  wanted.  All  day  long,  while  he  drove  his 
pen,  that  bell  pealed  through  his  brain.  During 
five  weeks  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  never 
still,  for  when  he  slept  at  last  it  clashed  in  his 
dreams.  To  the  furious  pealing  of  that  accursed 
bell  he  wrote  his  novel  at  the  table  that  groaned 
and  squeaked.  And  because  he  had  sworn  never 
to  oro  to  bed  until  he  had  covered  the  rigrht  num- 
ber  of  pages,  the  book  was  done  in  time.  He 
praised  God,  and  damned  the  novel. 

It  was  done !  And  though  it  was  unworthy  of 
him,  though  he  had  sacrificed  psychology  to 
speed,  it  was  not  contemptible.  He  sent  it  to 
Mr.  Alport  by  express  delivery,  with  a  line 
reminding  him  of  his  promise. 

It  was  done!  That  he  would  execrate  it  for 
his  sufferings  as  long  as  he  should  live,  that  it 
had  been  brought  forth  with  blood  and  sweat, 
that  he  would  never  see  its  cover  without  shud- 
dering in  remembrance,  didn't  matter.    But  he 

216 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


winced  to  know  that  some  of  the  reviewers  would 
sneer  at  him  because  he  had  to  earn  a  living. 

Mr.  Lingham  has  a  shrewd  sense  of  what  the 
public  wants" — he  knew  somebody  would  say  that. 
How  easy  to  disdain  other  people  s  necessities ! 
It  was  only  by  the  public  favour  he  could  hold 
his  wife. 

In  this  world  nobody  is  ever  in  the  wrong,  as 
his  lights  display  the  situation  ;  nobody  s  attitude 
is  ever  so  indefensible  that  he  isn't  perfectly 
justified  according  to  his  own  view  ;  and  no 
marriage  service  can  make  man  and  woman's 
standpoints  one.  Meenie  had  suffered  also 
during  these  five  weeks.  She  had  been  con- 
demned to  watch  the  husband  she  loved  strug- 
gling with  a  task  that  strained  him  to  the  edge 
of  collapse  because  he  was  too  proud  to  accept 
her  aid,  and  she  felt  that,  for  once,  he  had  been 
small.  Lingham  felt  that  he  was  taking  the  only 
manly  course.  The  thought  of  allowing  his  wife 
to  return  to  the  burlesque  stage,  of  weathering  a 
storm  by  means  of  her  voice  and  her  short  skirts, 
horrified  him.  Quite  naturally  he  harped  on  the 
short  skirts  ;  they  were  tangible,  a  legitimate 
grievance.  But  as  no  one  is  ever  wrong  to  him- 
self, so  no  one  is  ever  quite  candid.  He  shrank 
from  more  than  her  wearing  short  skirts ;  he 

217 


When  Love  Flies 


shrank  from  dofifing  his  own  plumes.  It  is  much 
easier  to  make  a  present  gracefully  than  to  accept 
one  well ;  far  easier  to  lend  with  cordiality  than 
to  borrow  without  embarrassment.  The  great 
soul  is  not  his  who  can  be  generous,  but  his  who 
can  profit  by  generosity  without  resenting  it.  Of 
such  souls  there  are  very  few,  if  all  secrets  were 
unveiled.  The  self-respecting  man  is  angry  with 
fate,  and  gradually  fate  is  represented  by  his 
friend.  It  had  been  facile  to  Lingham  to  pluck 
the  girl  from  want  and  play  the  hero ;  but  before 
they  had  been  married  a  year,  to  eat  the  bread  of 
her  providing  without  bitterness — he  hadn't  the 
stomach  to  do  that. 

On  the  tension  fell  a  double  knock.  Mr.  Alport 
had  been  as  good  as  his  word,  and  written  within 
three  days.  He  did  not  write  what  he  thought, 
that  the  story  was  below  the  author's  standard  ; 
he  said  it  was  ''a  departure  from  his  usual  style.'' 
For  that  reason  the  firm  were  somewhat  doubtful 
of  the  way  it  would  be  received.  They  would  be 
glad  to  publish  the  book  on  the  same  terms  as  the 
last,  but  he  sincerely  regretted  to  say  that  they 
were  unable  to  offer  any  sum  on  account  of 
royalties. 

Lingham  had  grabbed  the  letter  from  the 
housemaid's  tray,  and  he  read  it  aloud  in  a  harsh 

218 


Out  o'  the  Window 


voice.  When  he  ceased,  neither  he  nor  Meenie 
spoke  for  quite  a  minute.  He  folded  the  letter  in 
three  again,  and  crossed  the  room,  and  dropped 
the  paper  on  the  mantelpiece.  Still  she  could 
find  no  comment.  She  put  her  arms  round  his 
neck  in  silence,  and  laid  her  cheek  against  his 
face.  Because  she  had  been  blaming  him  she 
sorrowed  for  him  now  more  vehemently.  She 
was  stricken  for  him  ;  the  blow  was  brutal ;  those 
awful  weeks,  those  inexorable,  relentless  weeks 
for  nothing!  The  double  knocks  came  faintly 
from  the  distance.  .  .  . 

He s  a  gentleman,"  he  said  at  last.  ''Of 
course,  the  thing  is  muck — he  doesn't  say  so  ! 

The  woman  in  her  found  voice : 
He  is  mean,"  she  cried,  ''mean  !    He  doesn't 
want  to  pay  !  " 

They  stood  looking  vaguely  from  the  window 
at  the  crawling  hansoms,  and  the  errand-boys. 
Both  were  dominated  by  a  thought  they  would 
not  utter  yet.  The  man  could  not  bring  him- 
self to  admit  his  helplessness  ;  his  wife  knew  that 
to  say,  '*  You  must  let  me  do  it,  after  all,  dear," 
would  be  to  twist  the  knife  in  his  wound. 

Clinging  to  straws,  he  wrote  offering  to  sell  the 
book  to  the  firm  outright.  He  was  scarcely  dis- 
appointed next  day  to  hear  that  they  were  not 

219 


when  Love  Flies 


prepared  to  buy  it ;  he  had  expected  nothing  else. 
That  night  the  thought  was  spoken.  She  whis- 
pered it  to  him  in  the  dark.  And  in  the  morning 
he  went  to  Parlett. 

Annie,  when  she  let  him  in,  was  very  pale. 
She  faltered,  Look,  sir,"  and  looking,  he  saw  a 
large  hole  in  one  of  the  panes  of  the  swing-doors ; 
the  shattered  glass  was  littering  the  ground.  It 
was  his  luck  to  have  come  to  beg  a  service  at  the 
worst  time. 

'^Mr.  Parlett?"  he  asked. 

The  girl  nodded  tremulously.  ''And  he  has 
broken  things  in  the  study.  Hes  in  the  dining- 
room  now,  sir.  I  haven't  seen  him  so  bad  for 
years." 

He  went  in,  and  found  Parlett  hurrying  round 
the  table,  with  his  hands  clasped  on  his  head. 
His  face  was  crimson,  and  his  blue  eyes  looked 
as  if  he  had  been  crying.  At  Lingham  s  entrance 
his  pace  slackened  for  an  instant,  and  he  tried  to 
smile. 

"  Hullo,  Ralph  !  "  he  said  weakly.  How  are 
you,  boy  ?  Sit  down.  Don't — don't  mind  me  ; 
I  shall  be  all  right  as  soon  as  I've  worked 
it  off." 

Breakfast  was  set,  but  the  cup  was  clean,  and 
the  cover  was  still  on  the  dish.    Lingham  put  no 

220 


Out  o'  the  Window 


questions.  He  filled  his  pipe,  and  smoked 
moodily,  while  the  other  rushed  round  the  room 
talking  to  a  third  person  who  wasn't  there.  The 
spectacle  would  have  been  comic  but  for  the  sobs 
which  in  moments  broke  the  mans  voice.  His 
great  chest  heaved,  his  nostrils  quivered  ;  intermit- 
tently he  did,  indeed,  try  to  restrain  his  hysteria, 
and  then  was  swept  into  headlong  raving  violence 
by  his  own  address. 

*'You  introduced  a  step-dance  into  the  drama 
with  the  best  intentions,  did  you,  Mr.  Bedbrooke? 
In  your  opinion  that  scene  is  a  good  opportunity 
for  a  step-dance  ?  You  lying  skunk,  you  ruin  the 
work  of  my  brain  to  get  another  round  of  applause 
for  yourself!  Did  you  write  anything  about  it 
till  I  found  it  out  ?  No !  No,  you  never  meant 
me  to  hear  of  it.  You  scoundrel !  You  aban- 
doned, treacherous  scoundrel !  If  I  hadn't  seen 
the  notices,  I  shouldn't  have  known!  In  yozir 
opinion,  eh  ?  Vou  have  opinions  about  the 
Drama  to-day,  have  you,  Mr.  Bedbrooke? 
When  you  were  Wang-Tang-Too,  the  Cannibal 
King,  outside  a  booth  in  a  fair,  with  a  penn'orth 
of  raw  liver  in  your  hand,  you  had  fewer  opinions! 
What  do  you  mean  by  it  ?  Eh  ?  What  do  you 
mean?"  He  stopped  at  the  sideboard,  covered 
three  telegraph  forms  with  a  message  that  re- 

221 


when  Love  Flies 


mained  unfinished,  and  pitched  the  pencil  into  the 
grate.  Give  me  some  tea ! he  said,  dropping 
into  his  chair. 

Emboldened  by  Lingham  s  presence,  the  maid 
had  stolen  in,  and  as  she  complied  the  sugar- 
tongs  fluttered  visibly.  She  displayed  a  bloater 
with  persuasive  murmurs,  but  Parlett  would  have 
none  of  it,  and  did  no  more  than  gulp  the  tea. 

All  the  time  he  kept  talking  to  Mr.  Bedbrooke; 
and  at  last  Lingham,  engrossed  by  his  errand, 
and  impatient  to  come  to  the  point,  flung  out — 

If  somebody  is  spoiling  your  piece,  why  not 
tell  him  he  has  got  to  play  it  properly  or  give 
it  up?" 

Parlett  looked  as  if  a  new  light  had  been  shed 
on  the  subject.  Yes,''  he  exclaimed,  ''he  has 
got  to  play  it  properly  or  give  it  up ! — Or  you've 
got  to  give  it  up,  do  you  hear?  Or  I'll  take 
it  away  from  you,  you  rogue — now,  right  off! 
you  shan't  ring  the  curtain  up  to-night ! — I  let 
him  have  it  because  he  came  here  and  pleaded 
to  me  ;  I  let  it  to  him  cheap  ;  I  wanted  to  do  the 
little  man  a  turn.  And  now  he  deceives  me ! 
He  ruins  me  ;  he  turns  my  drama  into  a  musical 
comedy — the  work  of  months,  of  my  tortured 
days  and  sleepless  nights ! "  The  veins  were 
starting  from  his  forehead.     ''You  villain!  you 

222 


Out      the  Window 


double-faced,  dastardly  villain  !  All  alike  !  Not 
a  friend  in  the  world  !  Not  a  man  straight ! — not 
one  you  can  trust !  To  Hell  with  the  whole 
blazing  lot  of  them ! "  He  caught  the  bloater 
from  the  dish  and  hurled  it  through  the  air.  It 
spun  to  a  landscape,  glanced  off  a  marble  bust, 
and  scattered  on  the  floor ;  particles  of  it  splashed 
the  mirror.  He  bowed  his  head  on  his  arms  and 
moaned.  There  was  a  long  silence.  Annie 
moved  nervelessly  about  the  room  with  a 
serviette,  collecting  fragments,  but  they  were 
countless,  and  clung  everywhere.  Presently  he 
raised  his  face,  and  watched  her  through  wet 
lashes. 

*'That  fish,''  he  murmured,  seems  to  have 
gone  farther  than  any  since  the  miracle.  .  .  .  Oh, 
I  am  bad,  Ralph,  bad!  Tm  getting  worse;  I 
shall  die  in  an  asylum.  IVe  broken  the  glass 
in  the  door,  and  a  beauxXivX  vase.  I  usedn't  to 
be  so  bad  as  this — I  always  smashed  the  cheap 
things,  and  now  I  don't  consider." 

''You  could  control  yourself  if  you  liked,"  said 
Lingham. 

"  I  csinnol.  My  mother  went  to  her  wardrobe 
before  I  was  born  and  tore  up  all  her  clothes. 
I  was  the  same  as  a  child  .  .  .  and  then  she  used 
to  beat  her  breast,  and  say,  ^  Poor  little  Spencer ! 

223 


when  Love  Flies 


Oh,  it  s  all  my  fault !  *  Once  I  threw  a  boiled 
apple  pudding  at  my  nurse — it  was  a  terrible 
affair  that !  But  not  a  boiled  apple  pudding  as 
I  get  them  here ;  these  people — he  glanced  at 
the  parlourmaid  disparagingly  —  don't  know 
how  to  make  a  boiled  pudding.  Ann  Fidgin, 
our  old  cook  at  home,  what  puddings  she  used 
to  make !  A  rich,  soft,  golden  apple  pudding  " — 
his  tone  was  mellifluous,  yet  tinged  with  regret — 
it  gushed  a  clear,  sweet  juice,  the  colour  of 
daffodils.  IVe  never  had  them  right  since.  .  .  . 
Do  you  ever  wonder  what  the  women  who  have 
loved  us  think  of  our  goings  on  if  they  can  see 
down  after  they  die  ?  I  often  hope  my  rages 
don't  upset  my  mother  so  much  as  they  did. 
It  wouldn't  be  Heaven  for  her,  you  know,  old 
chap,  if  she  were  reproaching  herself  all  the  time 
because  she  tore  up  her  clothes.  I  like  to  think 
of  the  dead  as  Maeterlinck  regards  God :  '  A 
God  who  sits  smiling  on  a  mountain,  and  to 
whom  our  gravest  offences  are  only  as  the 
naughtiness  of  puppies  playing  on  a  hearthrug.' 
That's  how  a  man  wants  to  think  ofj  the  dead  ; 
it's  not  a  woman's  idea.  Browning  knew  the 
woman's  idea — the  horrible  haunting  fear  of  the 
wife  that,  if  she  dies  first,  her  husband  will  forget 
her,  and  when  she's  in  Heaven  the  other  women 

224 


Out  o'  the  Window 


will  '  know  so  much,  and  talk  together ! '  Ah, 

great,  great,  great ! 

"  *  And  is  it  not  the  bitterer  to  think 

That  disengage  our  hands,  and  thou  wilt  sink 

Although  thy  love  was  love  in  very  deed  ? 
I  know  that  nature  !    Pass  a  festive  day, 
Thou  dost  not  throw  its  relic-flower  away 

Nor  bid  its  music's  loitering  echo  speed.' 

'  It  s  music  s  loitering  echo  speed  ! '   Oh,  divine  ! 

Gesture  came  naturally  to  him  when  he  quoted, 
and  he  had  been  buttering  toast,  and  still  held 
the  knife ;  yet  the  fervour  of  his  voice,  the 
intense  earnestness  of  the  man,  prevented  his 
being  ridiculous.  His  paroxysm  was  already 
forgotten ;  he  was  wrapped  in  pure  enjoyment 
of  the  poetry.  If  one  of  the  aspirants  who 
frequently  intruded  here  could  have  entered  now. 
Spencer  Parlett  would  have  confirmed  his  fanci- 
ful picture  of  the  Literary  Man  At  Home. 

"  '  Re-coin  thyself,  and  give  it  them  to  spend, — 
It  all  comes  to  the  same  thing  at  the  end. 

Since  mine  thou  wast,  mine  art,  and  mine  shalt  be. 
Faithful  or  faithless ;  sealing  up  the  sum 
Or  lavish  of  thy  treasure,  thou  must  come 

Back  to  the  heart's  place  here  I  keep  for  thee  ! ' " 

The  knife  greased  his  waistcoat,  and  he  threw 
it  aside  and  lit  a  cigar. 

Well,  how  are  you  ? he  inquired  pleasantly  ; 
why  don't  you  talk  ?  " 
p  225 


when  Love  Flies 


I  haven't  had  much  chance,"  said  Lingham. 
''I  have  come  to  talk;  IVe  come  to  talk  on  a 
very  serious  matter — I  want  you  to  do  something 
for  me/' 

Parlett  was  visibly  discomposed  ;  between  the 
effort  to  be  genial,  and  the  terror  of  being  asked 
for  a  loan,  his  face  assumed  an  anguished  smile 
painful  to  see. 

What's  wrong  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  want  an  engagement  for  my  wife  in  A 
Ring  0  Roses.  I  can't  get  any  money  on  my 
book ;  I  have  no  salary,  and  I  have  no  capital. 
It's  a  fine  position  to  be  in;  I'm  prouder  of 
myself  than  I  can  say  ;  but  we  can't  starve — and 
even  if  /  were  willing,  I  couldn't  ask  her  to 
starve  too — so  I  have  got  to  let  her  do  some- 
thing." 

My  dear  boy ! "  exclaimed  Parlett,  lifting  his 
shoulders,  ''my  dear  boy,  the  thing  is  cast.  It 
was  cast  weeks  ago ;  the  rehearsals  begin  on 
Thursday.    You  should  have  spoken  before." 

''You  said  you  thought  she  was  clever," 
muttered  Lingham  stubbornly ;  "  why  are  you 
frightened  to  trust  her  with  a  part  in  your  own 
opera  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  pickles,"  said  Parlett,  flaring 
up ;   "I  tell  you  the  company  is  complete.  I 

226 


Out  o'  the  Window 


would  have  trusted  her  with  a  small  part — you 
know  I  would  .  .  .  that  is  if  VanderhofF  didn't 
object.  There's  nothing  left  to  engage  except 
the  chorus  ;  that's  no  good  to  you. " 

don't  know;  I  suppose  it  would  be  better 
for  her  than  what  she  has  got." 

Thirty-five  shillings  a  week  !  "    He  smiled. 

"Well,  damn  it,"  cried  Lingham,  I  tell  you  we 
haven't  got  anything  at  all !  You  don't  seem  to 
understand  English.  The  situation  is  desperate. 
Thirty-five  shillings  a  week  would  keep  her, 
anyhow.  The  manager  pays  the  fares  from 
place  to  place,  doesn't  he  ? " 

*'Oh  yes.  She  can  have  a  chorus  'shop'  to- 
morrow, if  you  like." 

^''Like'.f^  I  don't  Mike'  it  much,  my  friend. 
I'd  go  and  mend  the  road  in  preference!  But 
they  don't  want  me  to  mend  a  road,  and  it 
wouldn't  keep  us  if  I  did.  If  she  gets  thirty- 
five  shillings  a  week,  she  will  be  provided  for 
as  long  as  the  tour  lasts  ;  /  must  shift  for  myself 
There's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life  as  Love's 
young  dream !  It's  a  pretty  marriage,  isn't  it  ? 
We  shan't  have  been  married  a  year  till  the  end 
of  next  month,  and  I've  got  to  turn  her  out  to 
earn  her  own  living.  ...  Of  course,  every  out- 
sider who  sponges  on  his  wife  goes  to  his  pals 

227 


When  Love  Flies 


whining  at  the  cruelty  of  his  fate.  I  suppose  I 
look  as  big  a  cur  as  anybody  ? 

''You re  a  very  sensitive,  morbid  sort  of 
ass/'  said  Parlett  reflectively.  ''Til  make  an 
appointment  for  her  to  see  the  stage-manager 
to-morrow  ;  it  will  save  her  hanging  about  on 
Thursday  with  the  crowd.  Til  drop  you  a  line 
to-night." 

It  occurred  to  Lingham  that,  after  all,  his 
poverty  was  not  Parlett  s  fault. 

"  Thank  you,  old  chap,"  he  said,  with  some 
degree  of  heartiness,  ''  thank  you  very  much. 
Then  I  can  tell  her  it  is  settled  ?  " 

*'  Yes ;  tell  your  wife  that  if  there  had  been 
a  part  open,  I  should  have  been  delighted  to 
suggest  her  for  it.  Well,  what  shall  you  do  while 
she  is  away  ?  " 

'*  I  shall  take  a  bedroom  somewhere,  and  try 
for  a  job  on  another  paper.  Perhaps  I  might 
get  some  reviewing  to  do.  But  I  don't  know 
any  editors  ;  it  will  be  very  difficult.  You  can't 
introduce  me  to  anybody,  can  you  ?  " 

Editors  aren't  in  my  line,"  said  Parlett ;  ''I'm 
not  a  journalist — you  want  to  get  hold  of  a 
journalist  for  that.  If  you  were  a  doctor,  now, 
I  could  keep  you  busy.  Oh,  my  boy,  I  am  ill ! 
Swollen,  swollen  !  And  look  at  my  hands — that's 
all  gout." 

22§ 


Out  o'  the  Window 


He  dilated  on  his  complaints  eloquently,  and 
on  his  trials  in  general.  In  one  minute  his 
visitor  s  troubles  had  faded  from  his  mind,  and 
the  Universe  had  dwindled  to  his  own  ;  in  two, 
he  was  sighing  that  Linghams  was  ''an  ideal 
existence/' 

But  when  he  said  that  he  never  sold  a  horse 
or  a  dog,  he  might  have  added  that  he  never 
sold  a  man  ;  and  Lingham  went  back  to  Meenie 
with  the  knowledge  that  Parlett  s  word  was  as 
good  as  his  bond. 


229 


CHAPTER  XIX 


SO  it  proved.  Mrs.  Ralph  Lingham  was 
engaged  for  the  tour  of  A  Ring  d  Roses, 
and  while  the  husband  tramped  the  wet  pave- 
ments of  Fleet  Street,  the  wife  was  on  the  stage 
of  the  Opera  Comique,  where  the  company  were 
rehearsing  every  day.  Once  more  she  was  a 
chorus  girl,  and  again  she  called  herself  ''Miss 
Meenie  Weston." 

She  had  had  visions  of  earning  enough  for 
both,  and  the  disappointment  had  been  severe 
when  she  learnt  that  no  part  was  open.  Still, 
from  experience  she  knew  that  she  could  live  for 
a  pound  a  week  when  the  tour  began,  and  she 
meant  to  send  Ralph  fifteen  shillings  every 
Saturday,  though  he  had  insisted  that  her  salary 
was  to  be  spent  on  herself. 

In  the  meantime  they  left  Mrs.  Kiss's  and 
rented  a  top  bedroom  in  Guilford  Street,  and  he 
pawned  his  watch  and  chain  for  ten  pounds.  If 
he  could  have  viewed  the  crisis  with  his  wife's 
eyes,  the  fortnight  they  spent  in  that  top  bed- 
room would  have  been  happy  enough,  in  spite 

230 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


of  the  impending  separation.  Nor  was  it  wholly 
melancholy  though  he  could  not.  He  was  not 
able  to  regard  her  in  the  way  she  wished  to  be 
regarded — as  a  comrade  of  strength  and  re- 
sponsibility equal  to  his  own  ;  but  he  admired 
her  spirit  too  strongly  to  be  candid  now  that 
candour  could  serve  no  purpose. 

The  company  departed  for  Liverpool  on  a 
Sunday,  and  he  went  to  King's  Cross  to  see 
her  off.  To  him  more  than  to  her  the  twenty 
minutes  in  the  station  were  poignant ;  to  her 
the  platform  presented  a  familiar  sight — to  him 
it  was  painfully  strange.  The  tribe  of  vociferous 
women  and  shabby  men  ;  the  gapes  of  the  on- 
lookers ;  the  windows  of  the  train  plastered  with 
the  name  of  the  opera  in  scarlet  capitals,  sent 
his  humiliation  home  to  him  with  a  rush.  A  cad 
in  authority  told  her  curtly  in  which  compartment 
to  sit.  There  were  seven  other  girls  in  it — her 
associates  ;  they  wore  cheap  finery,  and  no  gloves. 
The  compartment  was  a  babel  of  bad  English. 
The  husband  stood  at  the  door  to  say  good-bye. 
Three  of  the  young  women  made  eyes  at  him 
while  he  waited.  Her  love  was  deeper  than  his, 
though  he  was  very  fond  of  her,  and  she  had 
seen  all  that  he  strove  to  hide  ;  but  she  did  not 
plumb  the  depth  of  his  shame  as  he  stood  there  ; 

231 


When  Love  Flies 


she  did  not  guess  how  nearly  he  flung  reason  to 
the  winds,  and  snatched  her  from  the  train  before 
it  could  start. 

The  flag  waved.  He  forced  a  farewell  smile, 
and  maintained  it  till  she  withdrew  her  head. 
She  had  gone  ;  he  was  powerless  to  support  her. 
He  walked  back  under  his  umbrella  abjectly. 
But  for  the  abasement  of  poverty  to-day,  it  was 
as  if  his  bachelorship  had  been  revived.  He 
had  known  Guilford  Street  for  fifteen  years — 
lived  in  a  dozen  of  its  lodgings — and,  after  the 
embryonic  hotel  at  the  corner,  it  wore  the  old 
familiar  aspect ;  the  road  was  being  pulled  up, 
and  the  houses  were  being  pulled  down.  The 
''single  room''  to  which  he  was  to  be  transferred 
now  that  he  was  alone — how  many  such  ''single 
rooms  "  had  he  occupied  in  his  life  !  Yes,  he  was 
fond  of  her,  but  the  proof  that  his  marriage  had 
been  a  madness  was  overwhelming.  He  had  no 
wish  to  avail  himself  of  the  privileges  of  marriage 
and  to  escape  its  duties. 

On  Tuesday  evening  the  drudge  brought  up 
a  letter  from  her  and  a  packet  forwarded  by 
Mrs.  Kiss.  He  learnt  by  the  letter  that  the 
opera  had  scored  a  great  success,  and  found  by 
the  package  that  the  manager  of  the  Sovereignty 
had  no  use  for  his  play.    He  read  it  through 

232 


Out  o'  the  Window 


again  ;  he  could  not  think  that  it  was  bad.  On 
the  other  side  of  a  locked  door  was  the  apart- 
ment of  two  counter-jumpers  from  Regent  Street. 
All  the  evening,  while  he  read,  they  told  each 
other  amusing  anecdotes  in  gruff  voices,  and  ex- 
pressed their  sense  of  humour  with  their  feet. 
Their  stamping  drove  him  wild,  and  he  asked 
God  how  a  man  who  lived  in  lodgings  could  be 
expected  to  write.  In  the  morning  he  asked  the 
landlady.  She  said  young  men  would  be  young 
men.  She  was  unusual  only  inasmuch  as  she 
was  honest — she  had  not  been  in  the  business 
long.  It  had  been  raining  for  three  weeks,  and 
he  remarked,  filthy  climate,  Mrs.  Watkins ! " 
as  she  let  him  out.  She  said,  Lor ,  Mr.  Ling- 
ham,  one  would  never  think  you  was  an  English- 
man to  hear  you  running  down  old  England 
like  that."  From  the  grocer  s  in  Lamb  s  Conduit 
Street  he  despatched  the  luckless  comedy  to  the 
Diadem,  a  note  of  congratulation  to  Parlett,  and 
several  cheerful  falsehoods  to  his  wife. 

The  days  are  no  more  when  authors  fore- 
gathered in  taverns  over  a  pint  of  stout  and  a 
steak,  and  Lingham  s  circle  of  acquaintances  was 
not  wide.  It  was  no  easy  matter  for  him  to  find 
regular  employment.  He  was  too  old  a  hand 
to  dream  that  he  could  pay  his  way  by  means 

233 


when  Love  Flies 


of  unsolicited  short  stories,  even  though  he  were 
to  scatter  them  broadcast,  and  to  obtain  a  com- 
mission for  a  series  was  almost  hopeless.  Only 
once  had  he  had  an  engagement  of  that  kind — 
on  a  paper  called  Bon-  Ton — and  then  the  terms 
had  been  half  a  guinea  for  three  thousand  words. 
When  Meenie  had  been  gone  a  week  he  changed 
his  last  sovereign,  and  seemed  as  far  as  ever  from 
a  salary. 

Monday  brought  him  another  tender  little  letter, 
enclosing  a  postal  order.  She  had  fulfilled  her 
intention,  and  a  lump  rose  to  his  throat.  He 
could  not  take  her  money  ;  it  was  impossible  that 
he  could  let  her  work  and  stint  herself  too.  He 
could  not  take  her  money,  but  he  saw  how 
delighted  she  was  to  send  it,  how  timid  of 
accentuating  his  discomfiture,  and  it  was  difficult 
to  frame  a  refusal  that  would  not  wound  her. 

After  he  had  evolved  the  most  specious  in  his 
power — an  answer  containing  many  endearments, 
but  also  the  remittance  which  it  had  been  her 
joy  to  make — he  determined  before  he  posted 
it  to  adventure  Bon-  Ton  this  morning.  Probably 
in  that  quarter,  and  at  a  starvation  wage,  he 
could  arrange  a  series.  If  he  did,  he  would  tear 
the  answer  up,  and  write  instead  that  he  had 
found  something  to  do,  and  would  have  accepted 
her  aid  gladly  had  it  been  essential. 

234 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Bon-  To7i  was  not  a  paper  of  so  high  a  standing 
as  the  title  impHed.  It  was  a  minor  periodical 
owned  and  edited  by  a  gentleman  whose  tastes 
inclined  to  journalism,  and  whose  livelihood  was 
gained  by  pawnbroking.  Mr.  Hunt,  despite  the 
incongruity  of  his  pursuits,  was  a  very  agreeable 
man  of  charming  address,  and  his  contributors — 
in  Lingham  s  time  at  least — had  never  betrayed 
their  knowledge  that  the  name  of  Hunt''  under 
the  three  gilt  balls  a  little  lower  down  the  street 
had  any  connection  with  the  courteous  chief  who 
examined  their  copy  in  the  office  of  Bon-Ton, 
With  a  delicacy  born  of  respect,  they  always 
pawned  their  watches  somewhere  else. 

When  Lingham  was  admitted  to  the  editorial 
den,  Mr.  Hunt  was  much  pleased  to  see  him. 

I  have  often  wondered  whether  '  Ralph  Ling- 
ham,' the  novelist,  and  the  '  Ralph  Lingham ' 
who  used  to  do  our  feuilletons,  were  one  and  the 
same,"  he  said.  ''Are  you  the  author  of  Angela 
Brown — Publisher,  and  the  rest  of  them  }  " 

I  am  that  celebrity,"  said  Lingham. 

I  congratulate  you  very  heartily !  You  have 
gone  far  since  those  days." 

You're  very  kind.  ..."  One  always  returns 
to  one's  first  love.'  " 

Do  you  mean  that  you  are  open  to  do  some- 
thing for  us  again  ?  " 

235 


when  Love  Flies 


''Why  not?''  said  Lingham.  ''It  was  with 
that  idea  I  came  to  see  you/' 

But  Mr.  Hunt,  it  transpired,  was  in  no  need  of 
short  tales.  He  was  now  offering  in  each  number 
a  prize  for  the  best  submitted,  and  found  that  the 
amateurs  wrote  them  quite  well  enough  for  him, 
besides  buying  the  paper  regularly  to  learn  the 
result  of  the  competition. 

"  And  then  the  winner  spends  two-thirds  of  the 
prize  money  on  copies  to  send  to  his  friends,''  he 
explained  blandly.  "  To  get  a  professional  man  to 
buy  copies  one  must  give  him  a  four-column  inter- 
view and  a  portrait !  But  I  should  have  liked  your 
work  all  the  same.  What  is  it  you  want — just  an 
appointment,  or  must  the  work  be  fiction  ?  " 

"I'm  not  particular.  Is  there  a  vacancy  on  the 
staff?" 

"Would  you  care  to  do  the  dramatic  criticism  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Hunt. 

"  What  are  you  paying  for  it  ?  " 

The  proprietor  confessed  that  the  rate  was  not 
high.  "  But  it  wouldn't  take  up  much  of  your 
time,"  he  pointed  out.  "And — I  don't  know  if 
you're  fond  of  the  theatre — you  would  be  able  to 
see  every  piece  before  it  had  been  out  a  week, 
and  one  or  two  of  the  houses  send  us  a  ticket  for 
the  first  night.    Thirty  shillings  ? " 

236 


Out  o'  the  Window 


rm  afraid  I  couldn't,  really!"  said  Lingham, 
masking  alacrity. 

I  am  sorry  I  can't  do  better,"  said  Mr.  Hunt ; 
''it  is  the  most  the  paper  will  stand." 

The  novelist  pulled  his  moustache.  ''It's  very 
little,"  he  murmured. 

'^  Think  it  over,"  said  Mr.  Hunt. 

Lingham  shrugged  his  shoulders.  ^' All  right," 
he  said,  "Til  take  it!"  They  setded  the  details 
before  he  left,  and  Mr.  Hunt,  who  went  out  at  the 
same  time,  inquired  "if  it  was  too  early  for  him." 

The  berth  and  the  whisky  sent  him  home  in 
high  feather,  and  Meenie  received  a  gay  epistle 
describing  the  brilliance  of  his  prospects.  "  I  am 
to  loll  in  stalls,"  he  wrote,  "  and  to  be  paid  for  it ! 
My  only  trouble  is  the  thought  of  the  laundry 
bills  for  so  many  dress  shirts.  Take  back  the 
fifteen  shillings  that  thou  gavest,  and  revel  in 
luxury!    You're  a  darling." 

When  the  unacted  playwright  had  been  a 
dramatic  critic  for  about  a  month,  a  long  tele- 
gram from  her  arrived.  She  telegraphed  that  a 
woman  was  leaving  the  company,  and  asked  him 
to  implore  Parlett  to  let  her  have  the  part.  By 
her  prolixity  at  the  cost  of  a  halfpenny  a  word, 
he  saw  that  she  was  very  much  in  earnest,  and 
he  went  to  Belsize  Avenue  as  soon  as  her  appeal 

237 


when  Love  Flies 


was  digested.  He  showed  his  friend  her  message, 
and  after  Parlett  had  said  several  times  that  no 
doubt  the  manager  had  someone  else  in  his  eye, 
he  rang  him  up  on  the  telephone  to  ascertain. 

'  Flora '  is  a  very  important  part/'  he  repeated 
irritably  while  they  waited  for  the  bell  to  sound. 

Flora'  sings  'Consequential  Carrie.'  'Small' 
part,  your  wife  calls  it  ?  She  talks  like  a  prima 
donna!  Its  not  a  small  part.  If  she  had  had 
more  experience  it  would  be  another  thing,  but — 
Well,  ril  do  what  I  can!  But  /  don't  make  the 
engagements  ;  I  can  only  suggest  her  for  it." 

When  communication  with  the  manager  was 
established  at  last,  Lingham  sat  attentive  on  the 
table.  Is  that  you  ?  "  cried  Parlett.  ''  Eh  ?  .  .  . 
Yes — I'm  talking  to  you.  .  .  .  Yes  !  I  say,  my 
boy,  how  about '  Flora '  ?  Is  it  cast  for  Newcastle  ? 
.  .  .  What  ?  .  .  .  Oh ! " 

Is  it  cast  ? "  exclaimed  Lingham  under  his 
breath. 

No.    Well,  what  do  you  want  me  to  say  ? " 
''  Say  she's  just  the  woman  for  it." 

It's  a  great  responsibility,"  growled  Parlett ; 
'  Consequential  Carrie  '  she  sings  !  "    He  bent 
to  the  tube  again  :  ''I  say,  you've  got  just  the 
woman  in  the  company  !     Meenie  Weston  I  she's 
in  the  chorus.  .  .  .  Eh  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  do  you  think 

238 


Out  o'  the  Window 


so?''  He  turned  to  Lingham.  He  says  shes 
too  petite — she  wouldn't  look  it." 

''Say  she's  very  clever,"  said  Lingham  hurriedly, 
picturing  her  eagerness. 

''This  is  shameful!"  muttered  Parlett.  .  .  .  "She's 
damn  clever,  my  boy.  Trust  to  '  Poppa  ' — I  know 
what  I'm  talking  about.  .  .  .  What?  .  .  .  Oh, 

I  should  think — er  "    He  glanced  over  his 

shoulder.    "What  will  your  wife  take?" 

"  Heaven  knows  !  "  said  Lingham.  "  What's 
it  worth  ?  " 

"This  woman  gets  seven  pounds  a  week.  Say 
four  pounds  ten  ?  " 

"  Call  it  five  !  "  said  Lingham. 

"  Five  pounds,"  continued  Parlett  through  the 
telephone.  "  She'll  be  cheap  at  the  money  !  .  .  . 
What  ?  .  .  .  Well,  you  wouldn't  get  anyone  else 
for  that !  .  .  .  What  ?  .  .  .  Yes,  she's  a  '  find ' !  .  .  . 
Right  you  are !  What  was  the  house  last  night  ? " 
He  chuckled.  "Good-bye." 

And  this  was  how  Meenie  obtained  her  first 
part.  Her  emotions  were  unspeakable  ;  the  edge 
of  joy  was  so  keen  that  it  hurt.  But  there  were 
trials  to  come  too.  Her  rehearsals  began  the 
next  morning  and  continued  for  a  fortnight.  A 
company  always  resent  having  to  attend  re- 
hearsals for  the  benefit  of  a  new  member — although 

239 


when  Love  Flies 


they  recognise  that  their  attendance  is  necessary 
— and  when  the  new  member  is  a  promoted  chorus 
girl  they  resent  it  still  more.  A  Ring  o  Roses 
company,  with  a  few  exceptions,  were  openly 
disdainful.  They  walked  through  "  their  busi- 
ness "  with  raised  eyebrows,  and  some  of  the 
chorus  ladies,  who  had  to  disappoint  desirable 
acquaintances  in  order  to  be  provoked  by  an  ex- 
companion  s  sudden  importance,  tittered  at  her 
acting  as  loudly  as  they  dared. 

For  she  had  to  act — she  solely.  It  was  a 
horrible  ordeal  to  caper  about  the  stage,  and 
simulate  excitement  and  rapture  among  a  listless 
crowd  who  replied  in  murmurs,  and  kept  their 
hands  in  their  muffs.  Her  limbs  seemed  weighted, 
and  though  she  hated  the  girls  who  tittered,  she 
felt  that  she  was  looking  ridiculous. 

The  stage-manager  was  considerate  enough, 
but  the  low  comedian — an  ill-conditioned  brute 
who  had  been  expelled  from  a  lodging-house  in 
Manchester  for  half-killing  his  dog — cowed  her 
more  than  all  the  others  combined.  He  was  not 
satisfied  to  be  scornful ;  he  was  perpetually  ex- 
asperated. One  of  her  scenes  was  played  with 
him,  and  for  every  line  she  uttered  he  had  an  im- 
patient rebuke.  She  became  stupid  with  timidity. 
At  last,  when  he  muttered  that  he    hadn't  been  in 

240 


Out  o'  the  Window 


the  profession  twenty  years  to  have  his  laughs 

corpsed  by  a  b  chorus  girl,"  the  stage - 

manager  came  to  her  rescue.  After  that  the 
comedian  did  not  interfere  with  her,  but  she  knew 
she  had  an  enemy  for  the  rest  of  the  tour,  and 
that  he  would  try  to  confuse  her  before  the 
audience  by  every  means  in  his  power. 

And  constantly  now  she  had  the  same  night- 
mare. She  dreamt  that  she  was  standing  in  the 
wings  of  a  theatre,  waiting  to  go  ''on for  a  part 
that  she  had  not  read.  She  was  faint  with  horror. 
Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  cue ;  in  another 
instant  she  must  stand  speechless  on  the  stage. 
The  agony  always  woke  her  before  the  cue  fell  ; 
but  that  nightmare  recurred  to  her  at  intervals  as 
long  as  she  lived. 

Her  debut  was  to  be  made  in  Newcastle,  and 
in  the  Newcastle  playbills  on  the  momentous 
Monday  she  beheld  her  name  printed  in  a  cast 
for  the  first  time.  It  looked  larger  to  her  than 
anybody's  else — it  leapt  out  of  the  column  to  her 
in  every  window.  How  insignificant  now  ap- 
peared the  string  of  names  at  the  foot :  Brides- 
maids, Courtiers,  Peasants  —  Misses  Neilson, 
Erroll,  Vandeleur,  Norise,"  etc. !  The  type 
seemed  to  have  shrunk  since  her  advancement. 

She  begged  one  of  the  bills  from  the  advance- 

Q  241 


When  Love  Flies 


agent  to  send  to  Ralph.  At  seven  o'clock  she 
went  to  the  theatre,  quivering.  She  thanked  God 
that  she  was  to  dress  with  two  of  the  '  principals ' 
to-night ;  under  the  envious  comments  of  the 
chorus  she  might  have  broken  down.  She  found 
immediately  that  she  was  not  to  escape  comment 
as  it  was.  On  the  staircase  there  was  an  alterca- 
tion ;  one  of  the  two  women  was  complaining 
that  she  was  insulted  by  the  arrangement ;  and 
she  didn't  lower  her  voice  as  Meenie  approached. 

Putting  a  chorus  girl  to  dress  with  me  !  Yes, 
she  is !  Of  course  she  is !  I  do  object ;  my 
Position  in  the  Company  '' 

Miss  W eston  is  engaged  for  '  Flora,'  "  said  the 
stage-manager.  You  have  always  dressed  with 
^  Flora.'" 

Yes,  when  you  had  an  artist  for  the  part.  A 
chorus  girl  ?  What  next  ?    I  never  heard  of  such 

a  thing  in  my  life.    To-morrow  night  " 

Meenie  hurried  by.  The  woman,  pledged  to 
silence,  presently  ignored  her  with  a  rudeness 
that  was  meant  for  dignity.  The  other  dropped 
a  few  kindly  remarks.  While  the  girl  made-up, 
the  grease-paint  shook  in  her  hand,  and  the  crash- 
ing of  the  cymbals  and  the  bangs  of  the  drum 
struck  terror  to  her  heart.  Until  the  second  Act 
^  Flora  '  did  not  appear. 

242 


Out  o'  the  Window 


''Beginners,  second  Act!''  the  call-boy  yelled, 
and  she  crept  to  the  wings,  suffocating  with 
dread.  The  stage  -  manager  glanced  at  her 
anxiously.  The  incident  on  the  stairs  had  been 
enough  to  unhinge  a  more  experienced  actress. 
Nervous,  my  dear     he  said. 

She  tried  to  smile. 

He  saw,  and  said  no  more. 
Clear,  please  !  " 

The  perspiring  scene-shifters  hurried  from  the 
stage.  The  chorus  drew  a  breath,  and  poised 
themselves  for  airy  tripping.  She  had  three 
minutes  left. 

She  moved  to  the  entrance  from  which  she 
was  to  run  on.  The  orchestra  burst  forth  afresh, 
and  she  could  see  the  curtain  rise.  While  she 
waited  for  her  cue,  one  thought  whirled  in  her  : 
the  thought  of  all  she  had  to  justify — her  long 
belief  in  herself,  Ralph  s  request  to  Parlett, 
Parlett s  asseveration.  Its  my  chance,"  she 
kept  thinking,  ''what  I  have  hoped  for,  what 
I  have  felt  I  could  do.  Oh,  let  me  do  it — don't 
let  me  fail !  My  chance  is  here !  this  is  my 
chance ! '' 

The  cue  came,  and  the  stage-manager  touched 
her  arm  : 

"  Now  !  my  dear/*  he  said. 

243 


CHAPTER  XX 


BECAUSE  the  Newcastle  Daily  Chronicle 
gave  her  the  first  praise  that  she  saw  she 
was  thankful  to  it  for  Hfe.  All  the  criticisms  that 
she  received  were  good  ;  the  correspondents  of 
the  Era  and  the  Stage  made  her  laugh  with 
delight  when  she  read  their  notices,  but  the 
praise  of  the  Newcastle  Daily  Chronicle  at  the 
breakfast -table  next  morning  brought  tears  to 
her  eyes. 

She  had  known  when  she  left  the  theatre  that 
her  manager  was  pleased  with  her,  but  it  wasn't 
till  she  received  an  answer  to  her  glad  telegram 
to  Guilford  Street  that  she  knew  the  extent  of 
his  approval :     Parlett  hears  you  are  great." 

Theatrical  folk  have  their  own  terminology. 
She  was  not  great,''  nor  was  the  term  used 
to  signify  what  the  rest  of  the  world  means  by 
greatness,"  but  she  was  dainty  and  naive;  and 
she  became  a  favourite  with  the  audience  in 
every  town.  Her  voice  and  her  face — behind 
the  footlights  her  face  was  beautiful — appealed 
to  everyone.    Then  in  the  ''Flora"  costume, 

244 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


with  her  hair  down,  she  looked  surprisingly 
young,  and  old  ladies  in  the  pit  would  say,  Oh, 
that  dear  little  girl !  I  do  wish  that  dear  little 
girl  would  come  on  again ! "  A  check-taker  was 
an  acquaintance  of  the  baggage-mans,  and  the 
baggage-man  told  the  wardrobe-mistress,  and 
the  wardrobe-mistress  mentioned  it  to  the  acting- 
manager,  and  eventually  it  got  to  headquarters. 
And  there  was  no  longer  a  question  whether 
other  ''principals''  would  share  dressing-rooms 
with  her,  though  many  disparaged  her  much 
more  than  if  she  had  been  a  failure.  On  the 
boards  personality  is  nine-tenths  of  the  battle, 
but  they  who  have  all  the  tricks  of  experience 
at  their  finger-ends  feel  bitter  when  a  novice 
outstrips  them  by  virtue  of  mere  charm. 

In  February  it  was  whispered  that  A  Ring 
0  Roses  was  to  be  taken  to  London.  No  sooner 
did  the  rumour  reach  Meenie  than  she  wrote  to 
Lingham  inquiring  excitedly  whether  she  would 
be  retained  for  the  West  End  production  if  the 
news  proved  true,  but  he  was  unable  to  give  her 
a  definite  reply. 

In  March  it  was  settled  that  the  opera  was  to 
be  put  on  at  the  Piccadilly  during  the  following- 
month.  Numerous  changes  were  made  in  the 
company  before  a  London  verdict  was  challenged. 

245 


When  Love  Flies 


The  heroine  of  the  tour  was  replaced  by  a  singer 
at  forty  pounds  a  week,  and  a  popular  comedian 
supplanted  the  one  who  kicked  his  dog.  How- 
ever, the  management  decided  that  to  engage 
a  Flora''  with  a  reputation,  when  they  had  a 
good  one  for  five  pounds,  would  be  an  un- 
warranted expense,  and  among  the  few  who 
kept  their  parts  were  Meenie  and  the  young 
woman  who  had  spoken  to  her  kindly  on  the 
occasion  of  her  debut. 

This  woman  was  her  one  friend.  Miss 
Stewart/'  as  she  was  called,  had  also  a  husband 
in  town.  He  had  an  accountants  berth  in  the 
city,  and  she  confided  to  Meenie  that  she  was 
only  remaining  on  the  stage  till  they  could  pay 
some  money  that  they  owed.  As  soon  as  they 
had  saved  it,  she  was  going  to  stop  at  home  in 
their  ''dear  little  flat."  She  loved  to  talk  about 
it,  and  Meenie  was  to  go  to  see  her  there. 

The  girl  had  had  the  advantage  of  watching 
her  predecessor  for  a  month  before  she  com- 
menced rehearsals  ;  now  she  had  the  advantage 
of  having  played  the  role  night  after  night  for 
three  months  before  she  faced  the  London  Press. 
Circumstances  had  been  greatly  in  her  favour, 
and  she  reached  St.  Pancras  buoyantly.  Ling- 
ham  was  on  the  platform.    She  had  written  to 

246 


Out  o'  the  Window 


him  to  tell  Mrs.  Watkins  that  they  would  like 
to  have  the  drawing-room  floor,  for  with  six 
pounds  ten  a  week  between  them  top  bedrooms 
were  out  of  the  question  ;  and  when  they  went 
in,  the  table  was  laid  for  dinner,  and  a  bundle 
of  violets  that  he  had  bought  to  welcome  her 
bloomed  in  a  bowl. 

The  wide  drawing-room  looked  luxurious  to 
him  with  its  saddle-bag  suite — from  which  the 
first  gloss  had  worn — the  draped  mantelshelf,  and 
the  piano.  After  the  feeble  lamp  upstairs,  the 
gasalier  was  a  blaze  of  splendour.  At  dinner 
she  did  most  of  the  talking ;  there  were  so  many 
things  to  tell  him  that  had  always  evaded  her 
pen,  but  there  were  very  few  for  him  to  impart. 
When  they  rose  she  opened  her  trunk,  and  re- 
appeared with  a  meerschaum  pipe,  and  a  silver 
match-box,  and  a  paper-knife  with  an  angel's 
head  on  the  handle — little  presents  that  she  had 
collected  for  him  on  her  travels.  She  was  so 
pleased  to  return  that  she  chattered  and  laughed 
in  a  breath  ;  and  he  was  happy  to  have  her  back 
with  him.  But  he  could  not  produce  any  presents 
because  he  had  had  no  money  to  spare,  and 
as  he  thanked  her,  the  violets  looked  meagre  in 
his  eyes. 

They  no  longer  dwelt  on  the  comedy  as  his 
247 


when  Love  Flies 


passport  to  public  favour.  It  had  been  rejected 
in  too  many  quarters  by  now,  and  he  seemed  to 
her  to  build  but  little  on  a  book  he  had  begun, 
though  this  was  to  be  no  potboiler,  but  a  piece 
of  work  which  would  occupy  a  year.  Hitherto 
there  had  always  been  something  they  looked 
forward  to  together — some  Jack-o'-lantern  that 
was  to  be  their  sun — and  she  missed  in  him  the 
cheerful  allusions  beginning  When."  She  felt, 
as  the  glow  of  the  reunion  faded,  that  he  was 
a  depressed  man  trying  to  be  lively. 

The  next  time  that  Lingham  saw  Parlett  he 
received  boisterous  congratulations  on  his  wife's 
talent.  The  dramatist  was  in  his  dithyrambic 
key.  You  re  a  damned  lucky  chap  to  be 
married  to  such  a  clever  little  woman,"  he  ex- 
claimed ;  "  she'll  be  getting  big  terms  before 
she  has  done.  Wait  till  you  see  her  on  the  first 
night ! "  Lingham  said  he  was  glad  that  the 
other  was  satisfied. 

The  opera  was  to  be  produced  at  the  Piccadilly 
on  a  Wednesday  evening,  and  his  latest  copy  for 
Bon-  Ton  had  always  to  be  handed  in  by  Wednes- 
day afternoon.  Neither  he  nor  Meenie  was  will- 
ing for  the  paper  to  come  out  that  week  without 
a  notice  of  A  Ring  d  Roses,  and  he  couldn't  go 
to  the  dress  rehearsal ;  so  she  told  him  the  story, 

248 


Out  o'  the  Window 


and  he  wrote  his  criticism  of  the  production  on 
Wednesday  morning. 

With  his  criticism  of  his  wife's  performance  he 
took  great  pains.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  write  a 
laudatory  notice  as  a  supercilious  one.  With  the 
best  intentions  in  the  world,  he  got  on  slowly. 

*''A  pronounced  success  was  made  by  Miss 
Meenie  Weston,  a  young  lady  whose  name  is  new 
to  me,'  "  he  read.    ''How  is  that  for  a  start  ?  " 

She  leant  over  his  shoulder. 

''Very  good,"  she  said. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  I  don't  like  it  much.  .  .  . 
No,  I  shan't  say  that ;  it's  elementary.  .  .  .  '  But 
the  surprise  of  the  evening  was  caused  by  an 
artist  whose  name  in  the  programme  was  un- 
familiar.' That's  bad  too.  Well,  never  mind ; 
give  me  an  '  impression.'    What  do  you  do  first  ? " 

"  I  run  on,  you  know  ;  I  call  the  chorus  round 
me  to  tell  them  the  news." 

"  What  news  ?  " 

"Why,  the  news  of  the  heroine's  elopement, 
Silly.  Its  a  speech — I've  some  nice  lines.  I'm 
laughing." 

"  Oh,  I  understand.  Where  are  we  .  .  . 
'Whose  name  in  the  programme  was  unfamiliar.' 
You  write,  and  I'll  dictate — I  think  better  when 
I'm  walking  about.    Are  you  ready  ?  " 

249 


when  Love  Flies 


She  nibbled  the  penholder,  and  nodded. 
*  Suddenly  a  young  girl  had  run  on  to  the  stage 
brimming  with  laughter.    She  clapped  her  hands, 
and  beckoned  the  others  close  to  hear  her  news.'  " 
I  don't  clap  my  hands,"  she  said. 

''Well,  you  ought  to!  I  can't  spoil  my  de- 
scription because  you  don't  do  it.  Let  that  pass. 
.  .  .  '  The  others  close  to  hear  her  news.'  Er — 
*  She  was  fortunate  in  having  some  of  the 
brightest  lines  in  the  book "  to  speak — and 
Mr.  Parlett's  book  "  is  as  happy  as  his  lyrics — 
but  it  was  not  the  tale  she  had  to  tell  that  startled 
us  ;  it  was  the  girl.  She  seemed  to  be  bubbling 
with  such  irrepressible  glee,  her  merriment  was 
so  infectious,  that  a  ripple  of  expectant  laughter 
stirred  the  audience  too.  I  think  we  all  leant 
forward  in  our  seats  a  little.  We  were  listening 
to  a  madcap  escaped  from  school,  or  to  an  un- 
known actress  who  was  mistress  of  her  art.'" 
Oh,  Ralph ! "  she  said,  putting  down  her  pen  ; 
that's  sweet!''  She  sighed.  ''It's  too  much; 
not  '  mistress '  of  her  art,  dear." 

He  did  not  think  it  was  an  art  at  all,  but  it 
would  have  sounded  like  jealousy  to  say  so  now. 

"  I  want  to  do  the  most  I  can  for  you,"  he  said 
drearily.  "  But  just  as  you  like — we'll  alter  that, 
then.    Tell  me  what  to  say  about  your  voice." 

250 


Out  o'  the  Window 


She  had  made  purchases  for  the  part  the  pre- 
vious afternoon  at  a  shop  that  catered  specially  for 
ladies  of  her  profession,  and  presently  the  box 
was  delivered.  She  flew  to  it,  and  wrestled  with 
the  string  ;  she  had  never  possessed  such  expen- 
sive lingerie  before.  Lingham  cut  the  knot  for 
her,  and  she  drew  out  some  stockings,  smiling. 
There  were  three  pairs,  of  different  tints,  to  tone 
with  the  costumes  that  she  wore  ;  and  there  were 
voluminous  garments  which  combined  many 
things  in  one.    He  touched  these  curiously. 

''They're  beautifully  made,"  she  murmured, 
lowering  her  eyes.  And  indeed  they  were  ;  but 
he  realised  that  the  world  was  to  see  them  on  her, 
and  he  turned  nearly  as  white  as  the  lace. 

He  took  his  notice  to  the  office  after  luncheon 
— sherry  and  some  sandwiches  ;  their  dinner-hour 
was  to  be  five,  to  suit  Meenie.  He  was  conscious 
that  Mrs.  Watkins  treated  him  with  increased 
respect  since  he  had  acquired  the  drawing-room 
floor,  and  she  understood  that  his  wife  was  one 
of  the  principal  ladies  at  the  Piccadilly. 

His  ticket  was  for  the  dress-circle,  and  when 
the  curtain  rose  he  was  glad  that — the  notice 
being  written — he  could  let  his  thoughts  wander 
from  the  entertainment  without  restraint.  He 
was  obsessed  by  the  knowledge  that  Meenie 

251 


when  Love  Flies 


moved  somewhere  behind  the  glittering  mysteries 
across  the  footlights  —  that  presently  Meenie 
would  be  among  the  fantastic  throng  that  pirou- 
etted on  the  stage.  Now  that  he  was  in  the 
theatre  the  circumstances  bewildered  him  a  little  ; 
there  was  a  breath  of  unreality  in  the  situation 
until  he  sat  looking  at  her. 

Avid  of  every  lesson  she  could  glean,  she  had 
made  him  promise  to  tell  her  exactly  what  he 
felt ;  and  the  first  thing  he  felt  as  she  ran  to  the 
public  s  stare  was  a  sick  shame.  But  he  would 
not  tell  her  that.  There  was  nothing  immodest 
in  her  dress,  viewing  it  as  a  burlesque  costume  ; 
there  was  nothing  indelicate  in  her  part,  regarding 
it  as  the  part  of  anybody  else.  But  she  was  his 
wife !  And  the  skirt  to  her  knees,  and  her 
coquetries  to  the  crowd,  and  the  condescension 
of  the  painted  tenor,  struck  him  hard. 

She  called  the  comic  pastrycook  ''darling,"  and 
they  were  supposed  to  marry.  He  put  his  arm 
round  her  waist,  and  kissed  her.  The  kiss  was 
not  real,  but  the  clasp  was.  Her  husband  told 
himself  that  so  a  man  might  have  clasped  her  in 
a  ballroom,  but  his  heart  was  hot.  A  vulgar, 
brainless  mime,  the  pastrycook"  !  But  he  could 
earn  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  and  support  the 
woman  he  had  married,  if  he  had  the  wish. 

252 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Only  he,  the  lauded  Hterary  man,  was  impotent 
to  do  that !  Of  what  good  was  such  talent  as 
his  ?  It  was  an  affliction,  for  it  incapacitated  him 
for  any  useful  work.  Of  what  value  was  the 
recognition  of  a  cultured  Press?  The  ''pastry- 
cook "  could  snap  his  fingers  at  it. 

During  the  second  entr'acte  he  went  to  the 
buffet.  He  had  made  a  few  acquaintances  among 
the  dramatic  critics  by  now,  and  if  it  had  been 
possible,  he  would  have  begged  one  or  two  of 
them  to  write  of  Meenie  as  kindly  as  they  could. 
It  was  beyond  him  ;  he  could  not  nerve  himself 
to  confess  that  he  was  letting  his  wife  do  this 
thing.  What  would  they  say?  ''Certainly,  my 
dear  fellow  !  "  And  behind  his  back  :  "  Must  be 
a  bit  of  a  cad,  you  know.''  Yes,  he  was  a  cad — 
he  said  it ;  he  felt  that  he  was — or  seemed — a 
cad  ;  but  he  was  helpless.  In  what  calling  could 
he  earn  more  than  he  was  being  paid  ?  Could 
he  ask  her  to  relinquish  her  salary,  and  her 
prospects,  to  pig  with  him  on  his  thirty  shillings 
a  week  ?  He  shrank  to  a  corner,  and  listened 
to  the  mingled  comments  of  strangers  who  came 
up  for  whisky-and-soda  and  cigarettes — 

''Not  half  bad!  I  like  the  music.  It's  very 
catchy."  .  .  . 

"  Yes,  by  Jove  !  isn't  she  ?  " 

253 


When  Love  Flies 


Which  do  you  mean  ?  " 

The  girl  who  plays — you  know  !  What  s  her 
name  ? 

^^Meenie  Weston."  .  .  . 
Oh,  very  poor  !    There  hasn't  been  a  tune 
yet    Vanderhoff  s  a  fraud." 

"  Take  care  !  That  s  his  brother-in-law  behind 
you." 

I  say!  Meenie  Weston  is  agreeable  to  con- 
template, eh  ?  Where  does  she  come  from  ?  Til 
have  a  liqueur." 

"  Did  you  notice  her  hands  ?  She's  got  no 
rings  on." 

*^One.  Married!" 
Oh,  that  doesn  t  count !  " 

At  the  end  of  the  performance  he  went  up  the 
side  street,  and  waited  for  her  at  the  stage-door. 
There  were  several  young  men  in  evening  dress 
meeting  ladies  at  the  stage-door ;  they  appeared 
to  find  it  more  amusing  than  he.  He  realised 
that  much  depended  on  the  relationship.  She 
came  out — a  little,  tremulous  girl,  eager  for  his 
praise — and  they  rattled  homeward  in  a  hansom. 
He  stared  before  him  blankly. 

^^Well?"  she  faltered. 

What  could  he  say  ? 

^^Was  I— all  right?" 

254 


Out  o'  the  Window 


You  were  very  good,  dear/'  he  said,  very 
good  indeed."    His  tone  was  lifeless. 

The  warmth  of  success  left  her.  All  the  elation, 
the  excitement  of  the  crisis,  died  in  her  veins. 
She  had  wanted  him  to  hold  her  close,  and  say 
she  had  astonished  him.  During  the  months  on 
tour  she  had  looked  forward  to  his  saying  that. 
He  had  spoken  too  strongly  last  year  for  her  to 
be  puzzled,  but  she  was  hurt.  Of  necessity  he 
had  concurred  at  last,  and  she  was  doing  her 
best.  And  she  had  spared  him  the  recital  of 
many  incidents  that  he  would  have  been  pained 
to  hear.  It  had  not  been  roses  all  the  way'' 
for  her,  though  she  had  hidden  the  scratches. 
She  would  have  worked  her  fingers  to  the  bone 
for  him  ;  but  she  wanted  them  kissed. 

The  hansom  stopped,  and  they  mounted  the 
dark  stairs  silently.  While  he  wrote  his  notice 
she  had  pictured  a  joyous  supper  to-night,  and 
she  had  given  the  landlady  money  to  get  a  bottle 
of  champagne.  When  he  turned  up  the  gas, 
Lingham  saw  it.  It  was  a  revelation.  With  a 
flood  of  pity  for  them  both,  he  understood,  and 
the  disappointment  he  had  inflicted  tightened  his 
own  throat. 

What,  champagne  ?  "  he  said,  trying  to  throw 
some  gaiety  into  his  voice. 

255 


when  Love  Flies 


Her  reply  was  indistinct,  and  she  moved  from 
him,  gulping.  She  found  the  sight  of  the  table 
pathetic,  and  his  exclamation  made  it  worse. 

Meenie  !    What  s  the  matter  ?  " 

My  head  aches,''  she  murmured,  taking  off 
her  hat.  I  don't  think  I  want  any  supper ;  I 
am  tired.'' 

**No  supper.'^  A  banquet,  and  you  aren't  going 
to  eat  ?  Nonsense  !  Remember  the  occasion  ! 
Come  and  sit  down." 

She  drooped  by  the  mantelshelf,  her  back  to- 
wards him.  He  went  over  to  her  slowly,  and 
stroked  her  hair. 

'*Oh  !  "  she  cried,  falling  to  his  shoulder,  why 
should  it  be  like  this,  Ralph  ?" 

He  held  her  remorsefully  ;  he  could  find  no 
words. 

I — I  didn't  say  enough,"  he  stammered  at 
last.  I  thought  you  knew.  You — everybody 
thought  you  were  very  clever." 

''No,  no,  it  isn't  that!  It's  the  way  you  look 
at  it.  I  see !  .  .  .  What  will  it  mean — what  is 
our  life  going  to  be — if  you  feel  like  this  about 
it  always  ?  " 

He  noted  with  a  pang  that  she  no  longer  said, 
It  is  only  for  a  little  while."  She  had  had 
success  since  she  urged  that — and  he  had  had 
more  failures. 

256 


Out  o'  the  Window 


''Til  grow  sensible,"  he  answered,  labouredly 
light ;  ''I'll  be  good  !  Be  patient  with  me  ;  it  s  a 
little  difficult  for  a  man  to  be  kept  by  his  wife, 
and  to  like  it." 

'''Kept!'"  Her  eyes  dilated.  "Oh,  you 
make  it  horrible  !  " 

"Well,  my  dear,  it  is  'kept.'  I — God  knows 
you  are  an  angel — I  appreciate  ;  you  do  it  all  as 
sweetly  as  a  woman  could.  I  notice  a  good 
many  things  I  don't  mention  ;  you  do  your  best 
to  make  me  forget  where  my  thirty  shillings 
leave  off  and  your  five  pounds  begin,  but  facts 
are  facts.  Without  you  I  should  be  back  in  my 
attic,  and  I  should  have  dinner  in  Wardour  Street 

for  a  bob.    With  you  !    You  can't  expect  me 

to  be  proud  of  the  position." 

"Is  it  impossible,"  she  said  thickly,  "for  you 
to  think  of  us  as  one  ?  /  do.  /  didn't  feel 
humiliated  when  you  took  me  out  of  the  pension, 
and  fed  and  clothed  me.  If  you  say  it's  wicked 
that,  with  work  like  mine,  I  should  earn  more 
than  you  can  with  your  books,  I  am  with  you 
heart  and  soul ;  but  your  triumphs  will  come — 
we  know  they  will  come — can't  you  be  glad  with 
me  about  my  little  penny  triumphs  in  the  mean- 
while }  " 

They  had  married  ;  and  behind  the  marriage 
R  257 


When  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


the  wife  did  not  look.  With  tenderness,  with 
sympathy,  with  discernment  she  looked  at  all 
that  was  needful — at  the  present.  She  reflected 
that  it  was  compulsory  for  her  to  work ;  she  re- 
flected that  even  were  she  to  take  a  situation  in  a 
shop,  the  fruit  of  her  work  would  still  be  bitter  in 
his  mouth  ;  she  reflected  that  he  was  preparing 
unhappiness  for  them  both  by  complaining  of  the 
inevitable.  But — being  his  wife  —  she  did  not 
reflect  that  he  needn't  have  married  her  at  all ; 
and  this  was  the  thought  that  underlay  the  man  s 
depression  now.  He  might  have  kept  single, 
and  retained  his  self-respect.  He  felt  that  in 
marrying  he  had  been  unfair  to  her  and  to  him- 
self 

But  he  would  not  harp  on  the  thought.  He 
drew  her  to  the  table,  and  simulating  cheerfulness, 
uncorked  her  wine. 


258 


CHAPTER  XXI 


HE  opera  ran  merrily  in  town,  and  when- 


jL  ever  his  duties  as  a  dramatic  critic  left  him 
free  Lingham  brought  his  wife  home.  At  a 
quarter  to  eleven  he  dropped  his  pen — snapping 
a  thread  of  thought — and  hurried  to  the  Piccadilly 
to  meet  her  as  she  came  out.  He  would  have  it 
so,  though  she  assured  him  that  it  was  needless, 
that  she  was  used  to  coming  out  of  a  stage-door, 
and  taking  care  of  herself.  She  did  not  tell  him 
that  the  insult  from  which  he  was  so  eager  to 
protect  her  often  awaited  her  inside  the  door,  and 
he  heard  nothing  of  notes  that  she  destroyed  half- 
read  in  her  dressing-room. 

Neither  had  referred  again  to  his  discontent. 
As  thoroughly  as  it  could  be,  the  subject  had 
been  threshed  out  between  them,  and  after  the 
night  of  confessions  it  was  tabooed.  Their 
conversation  had  placed  them  in  each  others 
arms,  and  she  tried  to  believe  that  they  remained 
there.    She  tried  very  hard. 

The  man,  on  his  side,  had  for  a  few  days 
striven  to  maintain  a  complacent  front,  and  with 


when  Love  Flies 


intention  he  did  not  drop  it ;  he  did  not  put 
it  from  him  as  a  mask  too  irksome  to  be  worn  ; 
he  let  it  slip  unconsciously.  Nor  was  he  con- 
scious at  the  beginning  of  the  irritability  of  his 
tone  that  so  often  wounded  her.  In  his  resentful 
reveries  he  was  at  infinite  pains  to  discriminate 
between  her  and  circumstances,  but  he  did  not 
manifest  discrimination  by  his  behaviour.  Those 
who  tell  a  man  he  can  keep  back  an  insistent 
thought  are  as  fatuous  as  they  who  said,  Keep 
back  the  tide "  ;  the  thought  that  Lingham  had 
vowed  to  restrain  flowed  in  upon  him  every  day. 
Their  marriage  had  been  a  mistake  for  both. 
Her  it  had  not  enriched,  and  him  it  had  left  poor 
indeed.  Slurring  the  fact  that  she  owed  her 
advancement  to  his  introduction,  he  said  that 
she  would  have  done  just  as  well  without  him. 
He  said  that  the  girl  he  had  rescued  from  a 
den  in  Paris  would  have  succeeded  anyhow — 
that  by  their  precipitous  marriage  she  had  gained 
nothing  except  a  husband  who  lived  on  her 
earnings.  As  for  himself — he  was  quite  alive  to 
the  pathos  of  the  situation,  but  he  knew  she 
wasn't  so  dear  to  him  when  she  was  putting 
forth  her  best  endeavours  as  when  she  had  been 
helplessly  affectionate  ;  poverty  had  entered,  and 
its  presence  chilled  him  no  less  because  his  wife 

260 


Out  o'  the  Window 


could  avert  its  grip.  As  for  himself,  he  could  not 
pretend  that  her  companionship  compensated  for 
his  humiliation.  The  secret  thought  acted  upon 
him  like  a  secret  vice,  and  irritable  tones 
developed  into  hasty  words,  and  from  hasty 
words  sprang  quick  remonstrances. 

Perhaps,  although  she  did  not  know  it,  she 
was  outwardly  a  shade  less  tolerant  than  she  had 
been.  She  would  have  abhorred  herself  to  think 
that  the  turn  of  the  wheel  had  dizzied  her,  but 
it  was  natural  that  she  should  stand  higher  in 
her  self-esteem  than  formerly ;  she  was  less  dis- 
posed to  bow  her  neck  to  ill-temper  and  rebukes. 

And  as  the  months  went  by,  he  was  constantly 
ill-tempered.  He  was  sorry  he  had  married  her 
before  he  could  afford  it.  He  gave  her  credit 
for  all  the  virtues  ;  he  owned  that  her  disposition 
was  sweeter,  that  her  character  was  nobler  than 
his  own  ;  but  he  was  sorry  he  had  married,  and 
few  men  can  conceal  such  regret  with  the  amiable 
hypocrisy  of  a  woman. 

One  Saturday  in  July,  before  she  left  for  the 
theatre,  she  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  balcony. 
Inside,  Lingham  had  just  sat  down  to  his  novel. 
The  day  had  been  despairingly  hot,  and  the  sight 
of  the  arid  length  of  Guilford  Street  filled  her 
with  a  sudden  craving  for  the  sea.     It  was  eight 

261 


When  Love  Flies 


o'clock ;  the  dinner-bells  of  the  boarding-houses 
had  jangled  an  hour  ago,  and  now  at  the  windows, 
and  on  the  doorsteps,  the  dull-faced  clerks  fanned 
themselves  in  the  gathering  quietude  of  twilight. 
She  pictured  the  sea  as  it  would  look  when  the 
moon  rose.  The  longing  to  behold  it  thrilled 
her,  and  she  went  back  to  the  room  impulsively. 
Ralph,  it's  Saturday ! "  she  exclaimed  ; 
couldn't  we  go  away  somewhere  to-night  after 
the  show,  and  spend  to-morrow  at  the  seaside  ?  " 

A  physical  pain  shot  through  his  head  at  the 
interruption ;  every  nerve  in  the  man  jumped. 
The  bridge  his  thoughts  had  been  spinning  fell 
to  air  ;  on  a  sudden  his  mind  was  as  blank  as  the 
paper.  He  put  his  pen  down  with  an  elaborate 
gesture  of  renunciation,  and  leant  back  in  the 
chair. 

'*Go  away  somewhere?"  he  echoed.  By  his 
tone  she  might  have  suggested  a  trip  round  the 
world.  ''What  do  you  mean,  'Go  away  some- 
where '  ?  " 

''It's  so  hot,"  she  murmured.  "  There's  a  late 
train  to  Brighton.  I  could  send  a  wire  to  an 
hotel  before  I  went  into  the  theatre,  and  we 
needn't  come  back  till  Monday  afternoon.  It 
wouldn't  cost  very  much,  and  it  would  do  us 
good." 

262 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Brighton  ?  In  July?  Yes,  it  would  do  us  a 
lot  of  good !  Have  you  any  idea  what  Brighton 
is  like  in  July?  You  talk  like  a  child  ;  you  don't 
consider.    It  s  hotter  there  than  here/' 

She  bit  her  lip  ;  ''Well,  think  of  another  place, 
then — I  don't  mind  where  we  go." 

What  do  you  want  to  go  anywhere  for  ?  We 
haven't  an  A.B.C,  —  I  don't  think  we  could  get 
a  train  anywhere  else  so  late.  Besides,  I've  got 
my  work  to  do.  Don't  you  know  how  slowly 
I'm  getting  on  ?  I  haven't  the  time  to  go  out  of 
town." 

^'Oh,  very  well,"  she  said  sharply.  It  would 
make  a  great  difference  if  you  spared  a  day  and 
a  half!" 

He  wanted  to  swear,  so  he  clenched  his  hands 
and  beat  them  on  the  table. 

''It  isn't  a  day  and  a  half!"  he  cried;  "you 
know  just  as  well  as  I  do  that  if  I  take  a  day  off 
at  the  wrong  time  it  costs  me  a  week.  By 
Heaven,  it's  an  extraordinary  thing  that  a  woman 
never  learns !  .  .  .  All  right,  all  right !  We'll 
go  !  Where  do  you  want  to  go — Brighton  ?  All 
right,  pack  your  bag ;  I'll  pack  mine  presently." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  "we'll  stay  at  home,  thank 
you. 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  said  Lingham  ;  "  you  want  to 

263 


when  Love  Flies 


go  away,  and  its  arranged.  IVe  told  you  Til 
do  it" 

I  don't  want  to  go  away.  Don't  say  any 
more  about  it.'' 

Oh  !  " — he  brought  his  fist  down  on  the 

table  with  a  crash — you're  maddening!  You 
are !  You're  maddening !  You  burst  in  upon 
me  with  some  stupid  whim  ;  you  send  all  my 
ideas  out  of  my  head  ;  and  then  when  I  tell  you 
— when  I  tell  you — that  I'll  go,  you  don't  want 
to !  What  does  it  matter  to  me  whether  we  do, 
or  don't,  now  ?  I  suppose  you  think  I  can  go  on 
with  my  work  as  if  you  hadn't  spoken  ?  I'm  not 
a  machine.  /  can't  make  a  living  by  prancing 
on  the  stage  and  speaking  somebody  else's  words 
— I've  got  to  find  my  own.  I  don't  know  what 
I  was  writing  about,  I  don't  know  what  I  was 
going  to  say,  everything's  gone.  Whether  I  go 
to  Brighton,  or  whether  I  stop  here,  you've  ruined 
my  evening.  For  Heaven's  sake  make  up  your 
mind  what  you  do  want  before  you  talk  about  it. 
This  sort  of  thine  is  killino-." 

''You're  quite  right,"  she  said,  with  a  gasp; 
it  is.   Killing  !   Every  day — a  dozen  times  a  day, 
if  I  took  notice  of  it — you  speak  to  me  as  if 
I  were  your  worst  enemy.    I  can't  bear  it,  Ralph. 
I  don't  think  you  know — I  don't  think  you  can 

264 


Out  o'  the  Window 


know — how  you  behave.  You  rage  about  trifles. 
You  blame  me  for  everything — you  seem  to  like 
to  blame  me — it  seems  to  be  your  one  relief. 
I  can't  say  a  word  to  you  any  more ;  Tm  afraid 
to  open  my  mouth.'' 

Oh,  you  are  very  hardly  used,"  said  Lingham 
bitterly. 

There  was  a  momentary  pause.  Outside,  an 
itinerant  harpist  swept  the  strings,  and  sent  up  to 
them  a  love-song. 

''Whatever  I  do  or  say,"  she  stammered,  ''it 
is  wrong  now.  If  I  ask  you  how  you  are  getting 
on,  it  is  wrong  ;  if  I  don't  ask  you  how  you  are 
getting  on,  it  is  wrong.  God  knows  I  try  to  do 
right,  but  we  don't  agree  any  more — it  seems 
as  if  we  can't!  I've  told  you  before  that  your 
temper  is  spoiling  our  lives." 

"  Once  or  twice,"  he  said. 

"  But  not  so  often  as  I  have  felt  it !  " 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  he  returned,  a  little  shame- 
faced, "but  I  really  don't  know  what  I  can  do  ; 
I'm  afraid  I'm  rather  old  to  improve." 

"/'m  not  a  machine  either.  If  you  could 
remember  it,  we  should  be  happier ;  /  have 
nerves  too,  though  I  do  make  a  living  on  the 
stage  by  speaking  somebody  else's  words." 

"  I  wasn't  referring  to  you,"  he  muttered. 
265 


when  Love  Flies 


You  were  !  "  she  cried.  You  sneered  at  me. 
I  think  sometimes  you  hate  me  since  I've  been 
on  the  stage." 

Oh,  don't  talk  such  rot !  You  make  a  moun- 
tain out  of  a  mole-hill." 

Yes,  it  is  always  a  '  mole-hill '  after  you  have 
done,  I  know.  I  am  never  to  answer,  I  am 
never  to  feel — the  nerves,  the  anger,  the  re- 
proaches, are  all  to  be  yours.  And  when  you've 
done,  when  you've  stamped  on  me,  and  bruised 
my  heart,  it's  a  *  mole-hill.'  It  isn't  fair,  it  isn't 
possible.  I'm  a  woman  —  you  ought  to  have 
married  a  child  !  " 

''Or  nobody,"  he  said  behind  his  teeth. 

**'Or  nobody!"'  she  repeated,  ''that  would 
have  been  best." 

She  stared  beyond  him  passionately.  The 
howl  of  the  harpist  filled  the  room  with  incon- 
gruous sentiment. 

Lingham  frowned,  and  strode  to  and  fro. 

"  These  scenes  are  just  as  painful  to  me  as  to 
you,"  he  exclaimed.  "You  tell  me  I'm  a  brute  : 
I'm  not  a  brute  intentionally.  I — Look  here, 
you'll  be  late  ;  go  and  put  your  things  together 
at  once,  will  you?  And  I'll  send  a  wire  to  the 
hotel." 

She  shook  her  head. 

266 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Why  not  ? 

It  would  be  no  pleasure  now." 

Then  sulk  !  "  he  shouted  ;  you've  said  every- 
thing you  could  think  of,  and  now  you  want  to 
pose  as  a  martyr.  I  wish  I  were  dead  and  buried. 
You  used  to  have  a  good  temper." 

My  temper  is  what  you  are  making  it/'  she 

said. 

She  hurried  from  him  with  a  sob  ;  he  glared 

after  her  savagely.     At  the  curb  the  harpist 

roared — 

"  '  I  need  no  moon,  no  sun,  to  guide  me 
While  I  gaze  in  your  dear  heyes.' " 

"  Oh,  be  damned  ! ''  said  Lingham,  and  banged 
the  window  down. 


267 


CHAPTER  XXII 


HEN  the  wife  exclaims  more  and  more 


VV  frequently,  *'We  don't  get  on  together 
any  longer  !  "  and  the  husband  is  girding  at  the 
tie,  only  family  considerations  are  likely  to  avert 
a  crisis.  These  two  were  without  family  con- 
siderations. They  had  no  child  to  serve  as  link  ; 
they  had  no  relatives  who  would  regard  their 
separation  as  a  scandal.  Lingham  often  reflected 
that,  to  himself  at  least,  an  amicable  separation 
would  come  as  an  intense  relief  if  he  had  the 
courage  to  propose  it.  Yet  he  shrank  from 
proposing  it.  He  hesitated  because,  though 
their  life  was  one  of  daily  friction,  the  measure 
would  sound  a  violent  remedy  to  suggest  for  a 
comparatively  small  ill.  He  was  deterred  also, 
and  chiefly,  by  the  very  fact  that  had  originated 
the  desire — the  fact  of  her  being  on  the  stage. 
She  was  in  a  calling  beset  by  temptations,  and 
she  had  returned  to  it  with  his  consent.  It  was 
his  duty  to  uphold  her  by  every  means  in  his 
power.  It  was  his  duty  to  swallow  his  chagrin, 
and  to  stand  by  her  till  the  time  came  when  his 

268 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


work  would  suffice  to  support  them.  And — sup- 
posing the  time  did  arrive — if  she  should  be 
loth  then  to  relinquish  the  position  he  had  been 
compelled  to  let  her  seek,  it  would  be  his  duty 
to  stand  by  her  still. 

That  was  his  duty,  his  unpalatable,  odious 
duty :  to  bring  her  home  from  the  theatre,  to 
share  her  money,  to  resign  himself  to  the  per- 
ception that  her  throat  and  her  ankles  were 
more  valuable  commodities  than  his  brains — 
to  be  ''the  husband  of  Miss  Meenie  Weston." 
But  he  was  at  once  too  strong  and  too  weak. 
Sophistry  could  adduce  arguments  on  the  other 
side.  When  she  went  on  tour  she  did  return 
to  the  stage.  His  embarrassments  had  not 
driven  her  to  it,  a  novice  ;  it  had  been  her  pro- 
fession before  she  met  him,  and  the  episode  of 
a  reckless  marriage  in  no  way  accentuated  the 
drawbacks  of  the  ''world''  to  which  she  be- 
longed. Her  life  would  be  the  life  she  had  led 
when  accident  threw  them  together.  Far  better ! 
For  she  had  been  out  of  her  depth  at  that 
moment,  and  his  arm  had  saved  her.  And  she 
would  be  in  receipt  of  a  good  salary,  instead  of 
a  poor  one.  Here  he  did  allow  himself  to  dwell 
on  the  introduction  that  had  been  her  "Open 
Sesame,"  and  he  argued  that  she  would  have  no 

cause  to  complain  of  having  married  him.  No 

269 


when  Love  Flies 


cause  if  he  found  the  courage  to  be  candid  before 
her  tears  had  dulled  her  prettiness  ;  if  he  did  not 
prolong  his  blunder  till  it  became  their  curse. 

A  Ring  d  Roses  bloomed  and  faded,  and  a 
few  days  after  a  notice  on  the  call-board  apprised 
the  company  that  the  run  would  terminate  in 
a  fortnights  time,  she  was  offered  an  engage- 
ment at  the  Folly. 

Her  salary  was  to  be  eight  pounds  a  week, 
and  if  the  production  proved  a  success,  she 
thought  that  Lingham  and  she  would  be  justified 
in  taking  the  flat  that  Miss  Stewart"  was 
trying  so  hard  to  let  now.  The  accountant  had 
died  ;  her  dreams  of  home  life  when  their  debt 
was  paid  had  ended  with  his  illness  ;  and  sud- 
denly she  stood  alone,  and  she  couldn't  afford  the 
rent.  Meenie  reflected  that  in  their  own  place 
Lingham  would  be  able  to  write  more  peace- 
fully— that  their  own  servant  would  banish  from 
existence  a  hundred  annoyances  which  tips  to  a 
lodging-house  drudge  could  only  abate.  Like 
him,  she  looked  ahead  with  misgivings.  She 
could  no  longer  keep  her  eyes  bent  solely  on  the 
present,  and  there  were  hours  when  to  consider 
their  future  made  her  tremble.  But  when  she 
married  him  he  was  a  stranger  idealised  in  the 
limelight  of  circumstance  ;  to-day  he  was  real, 

human,  a  part  of  herself    The  maternal  element 

270 


Out       the  Window 


in  every  woman's  love  for  man  was  in  this 
woman  intensified  slightly  by  the  fact  that  she 
had  no  child  to  be  mother  to — greatly  by  the 
fact  of  the  man's  helplessness.  Though  he  had 
grown  tetchy  and  embittered,  she  was  patient 
more  often  than  she  was  reproachful ;  though  the 
thought  of  the  future  dismayed  her,  the  suggestion 
of  separating  would  never  have  been  hers. 

But  it  was  on  the  night  she  mentioned  her 
project  to  him  that  he  wrenched  the  truth  out. 
She  spoke  of  it  after  supper.  The  opera  was  in 
its  last  week,  and  rehearsals  of  Japonica  Jones 
at  the  Folly  had  already  begun. 

^'Meenie,"  he  said,  ''I  think  you'd  be  mxuch 
happier  without  me.  We — we  can't  blink  the 
matter — we  don't  agree  ;  you  are  always  saying 
so,  and  it's  true.  What's  the  good  of  going  on 
with  it } " 

Her  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came,  and  he 
wasn't  looking  at  her. 

It's  no  fault  of  yours,"  he  added  nervously  ; 
*^  the  circumstances  are  wrong.  I  can't  resign 
myself  to  being  kept  by  you — I  never  shall ! 
That's  the  root  of  all  our  differences.  What's 
the  good  of  going  on  with  it?" 

You  want  us  to  live  apart?"  she  faltered. 

Wouldn't  it  be  better  for  us  both  ?    Let  us 

look  at  it  sensibly  ;  we  needn't  make  a  tragedy 

271 


when  Love  Flies 


of  it.  I  should  like  to  think  we  could  be  friends. 
.  .  .  But  I  had  no  right  to  marry  you.  I  had  no 
right  to  marry  anybody,  least  of  all  a  woman 
on  the  stage.  I  can  work  till  I  die  without 
earning  as  much  as  you  are  paid  already — and 
with  every  engagement  you  get  more." 

Next  time  I  mayn't  get  so  much/'  she  put  in 
plaintively. 

Tve  failed,"  he  exclaimed.  I'm  thirty-seven, 
and  I've  failed;  you  are  twenty-four,  and  you're 
succeeding.  What  promise  is  there  in  the  future  ? 
The  wife  who  makes  money,  and  the  husband 
a  failure  !  I'm  not  the  man  to  bear  it  well — I've 
tried.  I'm  too  small-minded,  too  ungenerous,  too 
anything  you  like  to  call  me — but  I  can't  do  it. 
What  shall  we  look  forward  to  ?  We  should  get 
on  worse  together  every  year." 

''I  suppose  so,"  she  said;  we  should  get  on 
worse  together  every  year." 

He  took  a  turn  about  the  room. 

"  I  can't  give  you  back  your  liberty,  unfortun- 
ately— you  will  still  be  my  wife ;  but  if  we 
separated,  at  least  you  would  have  peace.  Better 
to  be  tied  to  a  man  you  don't  live  with  than  to 
one  who  quarrels  with  you  all  the  time." 
Much  better,"  she  said. 
Now  you  are  .  .  .  angry  with  me  ?  " 

Oh,  no  ;  all  you  say  is  quite  right." 
272 


Out  o'  the  Window 


She  remembered  the  thoughts  that  had  been  in 
her  when  she  went  back  to  her  old  Hfe  ;  she  was 
his  comrade,  his  helpmate,  joying  to  do  her  best. 
This  was  what  had  come  of  it !  By  his  own 
words  their  wretchedness  was  due  to  her  devotion ; 
that  he  should  have  said  it  made  the  knowledge 
bitterer.    A  hot  resentment  swelled  her  heart. 

*'A11  you  say  is  quite  right/'  she  repeated.  We 
made  a  mistake  ;  it  is  better  we  should  own  it." 

If  we  can  look  at  the  thing  in  the  right  spirit," 
said  the  man  more  cheerfully,  *'we  shall  both  be 
grateful  that  we  talked  it  out.  Yes,  we  made 
a  mistake,  but  there's  no  reason  why  we  should 
part  with — enmity.  I  should  like  to  be  of  all  the 
use  I  can  to  you  always.  ...  I  don't  know  why 
we  should  be  strangers  to  each  other  because  we 
can't  get  on  together  under  the  same  roof  .  .  . 
Of  course,  that  must  be  as  you  wish,  but  anyhow, 
I  should  like  to  feel  that  you  would  turn  to  me  if 
you  wanted  anything  that  I  could  do  for  you." 

She  was  silent.  He  filled  a  pipe,  and  drew  at 
it  in  quick  pulls. 

*'That  must  be  as  you  wish,"  he  said  again, 

looking  at  her  askance. 

I  don't  understand  what  you  mean,"  she  said 

stonily;  *'you  don't  know  'why  we  should  be 

strangers '  ?  " 

I  mean  I  don't  know  why  we  should  never 
s  273 


when  Love  Flies 


speak  to  each  other  any  more.    I — We  can't  tear 
the  past  out  by  the  roots  ;  we  married  ;  you  may 
need  a  man  s  help.    Why  shouldn't  I  see  you — as 
a  friend — sometimes  ?  " 
She  took  a  long  breath  ; 

''We  can't  play  at  this,  Ralph.  I've  tried  to 
be  a  good  wife  to  you;  I've  suffered  more  than 
you  know  lately;  I've  suffered  enough  to  feel  that 
you've  proposed  the  best  course,  though  I  don't 
think  I  should  ever  have  proposed  it  myself 
I  might.  ...  I  can't  say;  perhaps  I  should  have 
in  time.  Once  I  wouldn't  have  believed  I  could 
agree  to  it  so  readily.  We  are  parting  because 
I  have  made  you  unhappy  " 

''  Not — not  you,"  he  stammered  ;  circum- 
stances ! " 

Oh,  let  us  call  things  by  their  right  names — 
because  I  have  made  you  unhappy.  Then  let's 
part.  You  live  your  life,  and  I'll  live  mine.  You 
needn't  worry  about  me  ;  I  wasn't  a  child  when 
we  met,  and  I've  learnt  a  good  deal  since  then. 
You  needn't  worry  about  my  not  having  my 
'liberty'  either;  you  mean,  I  suppose,  that  I  can't 
marry  again  }  I  shall  never  want  to  marry  again, 
Ralph." 

"  You  have  had  enough  of  it,"  he  said,  "  eh  ?  " 
''Yes,  I  have  had  enough  of  it." 

She  played  with  a  book,  and  put  it  down — took 

274 


Out  o'  the  Window 


up  another,  and  opened  it  to  hide  her  eyes.  There 
was  a  long  silence.  The  last  lodger  to  come  in 
put  up  the  chain,  and  mounted  the  stairs,  and 
threw  his  boots  out  on  the  landing. 

When  had  it  better  be  ? "  she  asked  abruptly. 
Lingham  started. 

There's  no  hurry,  I  suppose  ?  You — It  would 
be  best  for  us  to  leave  at  the  same  time,  wouldn't 
it  ?  If  you  are  going  to  take  the  flat,  I'll  arrange 
the  matter  for  you." 

There  will  be  nothing  for  you  to  arrange," 
she  said.  I  shall  live  there  with  Miss  Stewart ; 
she  will  be  very  glad  to  have  me.  The  sooner 
the  better  now.  I  shall  go  to  see  her  in  the 
morning." 

''Just  as  you  like,"  he  answered. 
The  clock  struck  one.     She  put  the  book 
aside  and  got  up. 

I'm  going  to  bed,"  she  said  ;  ''good  night." 
He  opened  the  door  for  her — an  act  which 
had  very  often  been  omitted  during  their  life 
together,  and  which  was  done  now  instinctively. 
When  an  hour  or  two  had  passed  he  stretched 
himself  on  the  sofa.  But  there  were  folding- 
doors  to  the  room  too — dividing  it  from  the  bed- 
room— and  even  when  he  slept  at  last  she  was 
afraid  to  sob  lest  he  should  be  awake  and  hear. 

275 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


HIS  watch  had  stopped  when  he  opened 
his  eyes  to  remembrance.  By  the  Hght, 
and  the  look  of  the  street,  he  saw  that  it  was 
early.  He  was  horribly  tired,  but  he  was  glad 
that  he  had  been  disturbed  before  the  servant 
came  in  to  pull  up  the  blinds. 

He  put  the  cushions  and  the  antimacassar 
straight,  and  let  himself  out  on  to  the  pavement. 
The  thought  of  the  last  night  s  scene  burdened 
his  mind  as  he  walked,  and  with  all  his  being 
he  wished  that  it  were  he  who  was  to  go — that 
the  parting  were  over — that  he  weren't  obliged 
to  enter  the  house  again.  The  prospect  of  the 
breakfast-table,  the  dread  of  playing  the  scene 
to  a  finish  in  cold  blood,  made  a  coward  of  him. 

He  had  no  club  to  bend  his  steps  to,  and  he 
washed  for  twopence  in  a  public  lavatory.  When 
his  return  could  be  delayed  no  longer  he  lagged 
home,  to  find  his  wife  already  up.  Her  pallor 
shocked  him  ;  he  looked  away  as  he  said  ''Good 
morning." 

Good  morning,"  she  murmured. 

276 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


Presently  the  teapot  was  brought  in,  and  they 
took  their  seats.  She  passed  his  cup,  and  he 
served  the  bacon.  The  pretence  of  eating  was 
very  pitiful,  and  the  heavy  silence  was  broken  only 
when  one  of  them  said  ''Thank  you.''  To  the 
man,  knowing  that  he  had  created  the  situation, 
it  was  even  more  oppressing  than  to  the  woman, 
whose  resentment  afforded  her  some  slight  sup- 
port. 

After  about  ten  minutes  she  pushed  back  her 
chair,  and  went  into  the  bedroom.  When  he 
followed  her  she  was  putting  on  her  hat. 
Lingham  stood  by  the  wardrobe  awkwardly, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  ; 

''  Where  are  you  going  ?  '' 
To  see  Miss  Stewart,''  she  said.    She  drove 
the  pin  in. 

''Look  here,"  he  exclaimed,  "why  should  you 
go  off  to-day  ?  I  thought  we  were  parting  be- 
cause we  both  felt  it  was  the  best  thing  ?  You're 
behaving  as  if  I'd  turned  you  out.  It's  wrong, 
it  isn't  fair.  Let's  take  a  few  days  to — to  talk 
it  over.  It's  damned  nonsense,  your  rushing  out 
of  the  place  like  this.    It's  ridiculous." 

"What  is  there  to  talk  over.^"  she  replied 
unsteadily.    "We've  settled  it." 

"Settled  it?  We  cant  separate  at  an  hour's 
277 


when  Love  Flies 


notice.  .  .  .  Take  your  hat  off ;  if  we  re  going  to 
part,  let's  part  like  sensible  people." 

There s  nothing  to  be  gained  by  .  .  .  Were 
both  of  the  same  mind  as  we  were  last  night." 
She  paused  for  a  second.  If  Miss  Stewart  is 
willing  to  have  me — and  I'm  sure  she  will  be — 
I  would  rather  go  at  once.  Tm  not  behaving 
at  all  as  if — in  the  way  you  say.  It's  because 
we  do  both  feel  it's  for  the  best  that  there's 
nothing  more  to  be  said  about  it.  We've  nobody 
to  consult ;  we've  only  ourselves  to  think  about. 
Every  day  we  waited  now — Why  should  we  be 
weak  ?  You  must  see  what  it  would  be  like 
.  .  .  it  would  be  awful,  you  must  see  it ! "  Her 
voice  quavered. 

He  did  see  it ;  he  hadn't  lost  sight  of  it  while 
he  spoke ;  but  there  was  the  aversion  from  her 
going  so  suddenly,  although  he  wished  she  had 
already  gone.  He  stared  at  the  ground,  wonder- 
ing what  to  say  next.  There  was  a  knock,  and 
Mrs.  Watkins  put  her  head  in,  and  inquired  if 
she  might  make  the  bed.  Meenie  said,  '*Yes, 
you  can  come  in,  Mrs.  Watkins."  He  did  not 
know  whether  he  was  sorry  or  relieved ;  he 
lounged  back  to  the  drawing-room. 

The  afternoon  was  unspeakably  painful.  Diffi- 
dent of  offering  to  accelerate  her  preparations, 

278 


Out  o'  the  Window 


he  paced  the  floor,  listening  to  the  sounds  of  her 
packing  behind  the  folding-doors,  and  knowing 
how  troublesome  a  task  she  always  found  it.  At 
last  he  rang  the  bell  and  gave  the  little  servant 
a  shilling  to  go  to  help  her. 

Even  when  one  s  world  is  represented  by  a 
landlady  one  studies  appearances  ;  he  wished  he 
knew  what  explanation  Meenie  had  made,  and 
decided  to  say  nothing  himself  for  fear  of  con- 
tradicting it.  He  winced  to  realise  that  he  was 
considering  so  trivial  a  matter  at  such  a  crisis, 
but  all  the  same,  he  meant  to  leave  before  he 
could  be  embarrassed  by  questions. 

Meenie  came  in  from  the  bedroom  with  her 
hat  and  gloves  on  ;  she  wore  a  veil,  which  was 
not  her  custom. 

Good-bye,"  she  said. 

Good-bye.''  He  hesitated,  and  they  looked 
at  each  other.  Her  hand  moved  incipiently,  and 
he  put  out  his  own. 

Each  wished  from  the  depth  of  a  heart  that 
she  had  gone. 

He  followed  her  down  the  stairs.  She  hurried 
into  the  cab,  with  an  inward  prayer  that  he 
wouldn't  speak  to  her  again  at  the  window.  The 
servant  repeated  her  instructions  to  the  driver, 
and  Lingham  wondered  what  they  were  :  to  Miss 

279 


when  Love  Flies 


Stewart's,  or — more  tactfully — a  railway  station  ? 
Mrs.  Watkins  was  in  the  passage,  and,  as  he 
turned,  she  said,  Lor,  sir,  it  zs  sudden,  isn't  it?" 
He  said,  ''Yes,  very!"  and  passed  her,  shamed. 
He  could  still  hear  the  wheels. 

He  knew  that  it  was  only  sentiment — that 
to-morrow  relief  would  come  ;  but  there  was  a 
lump  in  his  throat,  and  the  room  seemed  strangely 
empty  all  at  once.  He  looked  round  the  other, 
and  his  mouth  twitched  ;  the  absence  of  familiar 
things  was  poignant  to  him.  He  hated  himself 
in  the  consciousness  that  he  had  no  right  to  the 
knot  in  his  throat,  and  the  blur  before  his  gaze  ; 
he  would  have  thanked  Heaven  for  the  right  just 
then— thanked  Heaven  as  he  stood  there,  to  feel 
that  the  pathos  of  the  sight  would  endure,  that 
he  wasn't  moved  by  the  transient  tenderness  of 
the  moment.  The  knowledge  that  he  was,  for- 
bade him  to  grieve  while  grief  filled  his  eyes  ; 
he  sickened  at  his  own  emotion.  ''O  God," 
he  said,  ''what  am  I?  I  am  not  even  true  to 
myself!"  But  he  had  been  too  true  to  himself 
from  first  to  last,  for  no  man  can  jilt  his  tempera- 
ment. 

It  was  his  temperament  that  made  him  flee  the 
house  before  she  had  been  gone  an  hour ;  and 
it  was  his  temperament  that,  took  him  out  of  an 

280 


Out       the  Window 


attic  in  Doughty  Street  to  the  gallery  of  the 
Piccadilly  the  same  night.  There,  he  looked 
across  the  crowd  at  the  wife  he  had  just  parted 
from  for  life ;  and  the  woman  whose  life  had 
been  rent  in  two  that  afternoon  sang  ''Con- 
sequential Carrie to  guffaws. 

He  did  not  go  to  the  theatre  again.  After 
a  few  days  he  felt,  as  he  had  known  he  would 
feel,  a  returning  sense  of  tranquillity ;  and  on  the 
fourth -floor  flat,  half  a  mile  away,  the  women 
who  had  both  lost  their  husbands  made  their 
home  together. 


281 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


IT  was  well  for  Meenie  that  she  had  her 
profession — it  was  better  for  her  that  she 
had  been  so  fortunate  in  it.  If  she  had  been 
without  occupation,  or  tramping  to  the  agents' 
offices  now,  she  would  have  been  wholly 
miserable.  As  she  rallied  from  the  wrench — as 
the  fierceness  of  the  first  pain  faded — she  was 
not  miserable.  She  could  not  be  happy ;  she 
had  loved  him  too  well,  her  pride  had  been 
wounded  too  cruelly,  for  her  to  be  happy ;  but 
she  found  interest  in  her  pursuits,  and  tried  to 
feel  interest  in  her  future. 

She  had  attracted  notice  :  it  was  shown  by  the 
offer  from  the  Folly  of  a  part  which  had  been 
a  distinct  advance  ;  in  the  course  of  the  next  few 
years  she  might  reasonably  expect  to  attain  a 
prominent  position — a  position  in  which  she 
would  attract  more  notice  still.  Here  was  a 
situation  in  which  there  seemed  to  be  all  the 
potentialities  of  sexual  disaster.  She  was  a 
woman  so  young  that  it  was  natural  to  suppose 
she  would  one  day  love  again,  and  she  was 

282 


When  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


debarred  from  marriage.  We  read  that  man 
was  not  made  to  live  alone,  but  Adam  had  very 
few  resources,  and  observation  shows  us  that  in 
the  present  age  the  statement  applies  much  better 
to  woman.  Many  men  are  made  to  live  alone, 
though  they  rarely  find  it  out  till  too  late.  The 
average  woman  needs  tenderness,  as  the  average 
man  needs  tobacco.  To  her  it  is  not  a  distraction, 
it  is  a  daily  necessity — as  was  said  long  ago  in 
a  couplet.  It  was  not  surprising  that  Meenie 
failed  to  consider  the  contingency  at  this  period  ; 
it  is  impossible  to  declare  that  time  might  not 
have  tempted  her — one  only  answers  for  the 
unforeseen  at  the  altar — but  it  is  difficult  to 
believe  that  she  would  ever  have  succumbed. 

The  little  girl,  with  her  blue  eyes  and  her 
gentle  voice,  was  strong,  or  she  would  have 
fallen  long  before  she  met  the  man  she  married. 
The  potentialities  were  for  all  to  see,  but  beneath 
lay  the  force  of  character  which  had  already 
served  her  well.  And  she  had  another  safeguard 
— she  loved  him,  and  it  would  take  her  many 
years  to  forget. 

Japonica  Jones  ran  till  the  spring,  and  during 
all  the  months  she  had  no  glimpse  or  word  of 
him.  Often  when  she  was  out  she  trembled  to 
think  that  they  might  come  face  to  face — she 

283 


when  Love  Flies 


could  not  have  sworn  whether  she  feared  or 
hoped  it  might  happen — but,  though  they  missed 
each  other  by  ten  minutes  a  dozen  times,  they 
never  met. 

She  took  in  the  Chronicle,  and,  before  she  sat 
down  to  breakfast,  looked  for  the  ^'Writers  and 
Readers  "  column.  Dynasties  might  totter,  but 
it  would  always  be  the  ''Writers  and  Readers'' 
column  that  she  looked  for  first ;  it  promised  her 
more  excitement  than  any  cablegram.  Though 
the  promise  was  never  kept,  the  literary  page 
was  dear  to  her,  because  she  knew  that  it  was 
read  regularly  by  Lingham.  It  even  pleased  her 
to  imagine  the  sentiments  with  which  he  read 
each  morning.  Sometimes  she  could  hear  him 
give  off  his  short  laugh — rather  like  a  bark,  that 
laugh,  though  it  had  its  melody  in  remembrance 
— and  then  their  division  was  bridged  by  the 
thought  that  they  were  appreciating  the  same 
thing  at  the  same  hour. 

At  last,  in  April,  she  saw  his  name  under 
Received  To-day,''  and  sped  prematurely  to  the 
Strand  to  buy  the  book.  Athirst,  she  obtained 
a  copy  at  the  publisher's.  The  opening  chapters 
had  been  written  before  he  cast  her  off,  and  her 
keenest  emotion  lay  in  reading  the  rest.  The 
work  that  followed  was  the  voice,  the  mind,  of 

284 


Out  o'  the  Window 


him  after  she  had  gone,  and  she  pored  over  it, 
tracing  the  rills  of  reflection  to  their  source, 
listening  for  murmurs  of  significance  that  were 
not  there — peering  between  the  lines  into  the 
mood  from  which  they  flowed. 

Because  she  was  very  fond  of  her  friend — and 
eager  to  hear  Ralph  praised — she  lent  the  novel 
to  her.  Because  her  friend  was  very  fond  of 
Meenie — and  disposed  to  see  no  merit  in  any- 
thing her  husband  did — she  said  limply  that  it 
was  ''all  right."  They  had  never  come  so  near 
to  sharp  words. 

Nor  did  they  ever  come  so  near  again.  Actors 
and  actresses  can  seldom  foretell  their  movements 
long  ahead.  To-day  they  may  be  settled  in 
London,  and  to-morrow  preparing  to  go  to  the 
Antipodes  ;  allusions  to  Melbourne  or  New  York 
fall  as  trippingly  from  their  tongues  as  addresses 
in  Brighton  or  Bow ;  and  one  night  when  Miss 
Stewart  came  in  from  the  theatre  where  she  was 
playing  there  was  food  for  discussion. 

''  My  dear,"  exclaimed  Meenie,  as  she  entered, 
''  what  do  you  think  I  have  been  offered  this 
evening  ? 

Lead  at  the  Lane ! "  said  Miss  Stewart 
promptly,  for  she  could  make  a  joke  now.  You 
have  such  a  commanding  presence." 

285 


when  Love  Flies 


They  re  sending  Japonica  to  New  York  in 
the  autumn,  and  they  have  asked  me  if  I  would 
like  to  go  over ^ with  it!  I  don't  know  what  to 
say.  ...  I  don't  think  I  should." 

*^Why  not?"  asked  the  other.  'Mt  would  be 
the  best  thing  for  you.    Why  shouldn't  you  go  ?" 

To  put  the  Atlantic  between  herself  and  Ling- 
ham  was  one  objection,  but  the  woman  was  loth 
to  acknowledge  that,  even  in  her  thoughts. 
I  should  miss  you  so,"  she  said. 

'*Youll  probably  miss  me  anyhow.  I  don't 
expect  I  shall  be  able  to  stay  long  in  town  ;  when 
I'm  on  tour  you'll  have  the  flat  to  yourself." 

And  that's  another  thing ! "  said  Meenie. 
''What  about  the  flat?  It  costs  a  lot  to  live 
in  New  York,  doesn't  it  ?  I  don't  know  if  I 
should  be  able  to  pay  my  share  of  the  rent  while 
I  was  away." 

''Well,  of  course  you  wouldn't  pay  your  share 
while  you  were  away.  What  an  idea !  Besides, 
if  you  go,  I  shan't  renew  the  agreement.  I've 
been  thinking.  I  don't  want  the  place,  seeing 
that  I  shall  be  in  the  provinces  six  or  eight 
months  out  of  the  year.  I'm  not  like  you — 
you'll  come  back  to  the  West  End ;  you're 
getting  on." 

"  I  shall  owe  a  lot  of  it  to  you,  if  I  do  ;  you 
286 


Out  o'  the  Window 


have  taught  me  heaps,  Lucy.    It's  funny  

She  hesitated. 

Oh,  you  may  say  it,"  said  Miss  Stewart. 
''It's  funny  that  I  can  tell  you  how  things  ought 
to  be  done,  thoiigh  I'm  not  able  to  do  them 
myself.  You'll  find  plenty  of  people  in  the 
profession  like  that.  I've  the  instinct — I  see 
how  an  effect  can  be  made  ;  but  when  I  try  to 
make  it  myself,  I'm  awkward.  If  you  imitated 
me  you  would  be  awkward  too,  but  you  don't  ; 
you  see  what  I  mean,  and  do  it  gracefully.  .  .  . 
Now  don't  be  a  goose  ;  tell  them  to-morrow  that 
you'll  go.    What  are  the  terms  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  ask.  I  suppose  they  ought  to  be 
more  to  go  to  America,  oughtn't  they.'^" 

"  Certainly  they  ought ;  it's  always  more  for 
America.  And  you  had  better  buy  everything 
you're  likely  to  want  before  you  sail — and  wear 
it  first,  too — clothes  cost  a  fortune  in  the  States ! 
.  .  .  A  change  like  that  is  just  what  you  need  ; 
it  will  keep  you  from  brooding." 

I  don't  brood,"  said  Meenie,  flushing ;  ''  I 
don't  know  why  you  should  say  such  a  thing ! " 

But  she  knew  perfectly,  and  it  was  for  this 
reason — because  she  despised  herself  for  clinging 
to  the  city  that  held  her  husband — that  she  found 
the  courage  to  say  ''yes  "  next  day. 

287 


when  Love  Flies 


Many  times  during  the  summer  she  wished 
that  she  had  not ;  once  or  twice,  but  for  the  fear 
of  betraying  her  weakness  to  Miss  Stewart,  she 
would  have  tried  to  annul  the  contract.  As 
September  drew  near,  her  aversion  increased. 
She  was  going  with  strangers  to  a  strange 
country,  and  leaving  behind  everything  except 
bitter  memories.  Now  she  would  have  can- 
celled the  contract  and  defied  her  friend  s  rebukes, 
but  it  was  too  late.  It  seemed  to  her  that,  alone 
and  so  far  away,  her  thoughts  would  be  harder 
to  bear.  She  hoped  that  America  would  scorn 
the  production,  and  that  the  company  would  be 
sent  back  in  a  week. 

One  evening,  when  her  departure  was  very 
near  indeed,  an  impulse  was  too  strong  to  be 
denied,  and  carelessly — so  carelessly  that  the 
other  had  no  suspicion — she  proposed  a  stroll. 
The  two  women  sauntered  round  Russell  Square 
into  Southampton  Row,  and  came  to  the  big 
lamp-post  of  Guilford  Street.  Now  the  elder 
understood,  and  affected  unconsciousness  of  where 
she  was  being  led.  Meenie  turned  the  corner, 
talking  rapidly ;  it  was  the  first  time  she  had 
entered  the  street  since  the  afternoon  last  year 
when  she  drove  away.  The  hotel  was  much 
higher  now,  but,  beyond,  the  road  was  being 

288 


Out  o'  the  Window 


mended,  as  usual,  and  she  could  see  patches  of 
familiar  scaffolding. 

Presently  they  approached  the  house.  Miss 
Stewart,  who  remembered  the  number  very  well, 
was  silent,  and  more  unmindful  still.  Meenie 
looked  lingeringly  at  the  windows.  Behind  the 
dirty  curtains  the  gasalier  was  ablaze  ;  she  won- 
dered who  lived  in  the  rooms  now.  Her  footsteps 
lagged — she  would  have  liked  to  stop  ;  the  house 
was  passed  too  quickly,  and  she  felt  a  new  sense 
of  loss. 

When  they  reached  the  Foundling,  Miss 
Stewart  said — 

Shall  we  turn  back  ?    I'm  rather  tired." 
Just  as  you  like,''  answered  Meenie,  careless 

too. 

And  though  Miss  Stewart  knew,  and  Meenie 
knew^  that  she  must  know,  neither  admitted  to 
the  other  by  any  words  that  they  had  not  been 
taking  an  aimless  walk.  Only  they  were  quieter 
than  usual  when  they  sat  at  home  again  ;  and 
when  they  said  ''Good  night"  Meenie  put  her 
arms  round  her  friend  s  neck  and  kissed  her. 


T 


289 


CHAPTER  XXV 


TO  Lingham,  the  year  during  which  Meenie 
lived  with  Miss  Stewart  had  not  been  void 
of  instruction.  After  that  returning  sense  of  tran- 
quillity— after  his  renewed  enjoyment  in  work 
which  again  sufficed  for  his  needs — he  had  learnt 
that  the  past  is  irrecoverable.  In  theory  he  had 
known  it ;  in  practice  it  was  a  strange  lesson. 
He  had  set  back  the  clock,  but  he  had  not  re- 
gained the  spirit  of  the  time.  He  had  shaken 
himself  free,  but  the  buoyancy  of  freedom  was 
absent  His  wife  had  gone  ;  materially  his  life 
was  the  life  of  the  period  before  he  knew  her  ; 
but  externals  could  no  more  restore  the  serenity 
of  the  period  to  him  than  to  play  with  a  top  could 
make  him  feel  fourteen. 

At  first  the  knowledge  of  his  loneliness  was 
fitful ;  he  shrank  from  regret  as  he  had  shrunk 
from  it  in  the  hour  of  the  good-bye,  distrustful  of 
his  own  emotions.  It  was  slowly  he  awoke  to 
the  perception  that  though  he  might  draw  a  chair 
to  the  hearth,  and  open  a  book  in  silence,  the 
contentment  of  solitude  had  been  outlived.  It 

290 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


was  by  degrees  he  realised  that  though  a  fool  can 
put  a  woman  s  arms  from  him,  only  God  can  still 
the  thought  of  her. 

He  missed  her  ;  he  missed  her  more  than  he 
could  credit  for  a  long  while.  Even  while  they 
were  happy  together,  he  had  not  dreamed  that 
her  loss  would  tear  so  deep  a  cleft  in  his  life. 
He  had  not  known  she  was  so  dear  to  him. 
Perhaps  she  had  not  been  so  dear.  And  because 
she  was  still  living  she  throbbed  in  his  memory 
always.  If  he  had  lost  her  by  death,  his  world 
would  have  blossomed  over  the  fissure  sooner  ; 
when  the  lips  are  dumb,  the  echoes  grow  faint ; 
but  alive,  she  haunted  him. 

As  long  as  she  was  playing  in  town  he  could 
know  that  she  was  not  ill  ;  and  while  she  remained 
at  the  Folly,  the  Chronicle  s  advertisement  of  the 
theatre  showed  him  her  name  each  day.  As 
the  woman  had  sought  regularly  for  his  in  the 
Writers  and  Readers "  column,  so  the  man 
looked  for  hers  on  the  fourth  page.  And  every 
morning  he  read  that  his  wife  was  well — under 
the  clock  that  completed  the  record  of  Two. 

After  Japonica  Jones  finished,  the  Chronicle 
gave  him  no  further  news  of  her.  It  was  when 
he  was  denied  the  daily  sight  of  her  name  that 
he  realised  how  precious  it  had  become.  The 

291 


when  Love  Flies 


paper  was  foreign  to  him,  and  their  division 
yawned  more  blankly.  One  Saturday  he  bought 
the  Era,  and  by  this  he  learnt  that  she  had  gone 
to  New  York.  He  paled ;  the  paragraph  struck 
him  with  dismay.  Now  it  seemed  to  him  that 
while  London  held  them  both  there  had  been  an 
impalpable  link  between  them.  He  re-read  the 
paragraph  mechanically  a  dozen  times  ;  and  in 
the  consciousness  that  he  could  not  see  her,  that 
all  chance  of  their  meeting  was  removed,  he  felt 
forlorn  when  he  went  out. 

Nor  did  he  ever  forget  that  she  had  gone  from 
the  city  when  he  walked.  It  was  revealed  to  him 
that  hitherto  his  eyes  had  always  been  eager  in 
the  streets,  that  deep  in  his  heart  there  had  lurked 
a  faint  expectation  of  something  he  had  not 
defined — something  that  could  never  happen  now. 
He  could  throw  doubts  on  his  sincerity  no  longer  ; 
he  had  ceased  to  try  ;  and  he  knew  that,  though  he 
had  made  a  rash  marriage,  he  had  loved  his  wife. 

In  Oxford  Street,  one  afternoon,  he  caught 
sight  of  Georgina,  and  darted  under  the  horses' 
heads  to  avoid  her.  She  would  want  to  call,  and 
it  would  be  odious  to  have  to  explain  the  circum- 
stances, or  tell  her  falsehoods.  Through  the 
winter  he  often  bought  the  Era  or  the  Stage, 
but  he  gathered  no  tidings  of  Meenie  from  either 

292 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Between  him  and  Parlett  her  name  was  never 
mentioned,  and  he  remained  ignorant  whether  she 
had  come  back  to  England  or  not.  Then,  with 
the  spring,  his  interest  in  New  York  was  em- 
phasised by  a  surprising  letter  forwarded  to  him 
by  Mr.  Alport.    It  was  as  if  his  luck  had  turned 

too  late.  a  Hawthorne  Theatre, 

New  York,  N.Y. 

"Dear  Sir,— 

"  I  have  read  with  much  enjoyment  your  novel 
called  Angela  Brown — Publisher.  It  might  be  con- 
verted into  a  very  entertaining  comedy.  I  should  be 
glad  to  hear  from  you  by  an  early  mail  if  you  are  dis- 
posed to  submit  a  dramatic  version  of  your  book  to  me. 
If  you  conclude  to  do  so,  the  MS.  shall  receive  my 
immediate  attention.     u  Yours  truly, 

"Ellis  M'Crea." 

Ellis  M'Crea  was  almost  as  well  known  to 
theatrical  London  as  to  America.  Even  Ling- 
ham  had  often  heard  him  mentioned.  He  was 
the  manager  of  two  of  the  principal  theatres  of 
New  York,  and  the  fountain-head  of  a  score  of 
dramatic  enterprises.  No  more  encouraging  in- 
vitation could  have  been  received,  and  the  author's 
impulse  was  to  post  the  comedy  to  him  immedi- 
ately. A  chat  with  Parlett,  however,  made  it 
clear  that  this  would  be  indiscreet. 

If  you  do,"  said  the  playwright,     you  will 
293 


when  Love  Flies 


give  it  a  black  eye  before  he  looks  at  it,  for  he'll 
guess  that  it  has  been  refused  in  twenty  quarters 
already.  Say  you'll  start  work  on  it  at  once  ;  and 
send  a  clean  copy  of  it  to  him  in  a  month  s  time. 
Trust  to  Poppa  !  " 

So  Lingham  wrote  that  he  would  be  pleased  to 
submit  a  stage  version  of  the  novel  a  few  weeks 
hence,  and  when  he  came  to  re-read  the  version 
that  was  made  he  was  thankful  that  he  had  taken 
advice.  It  was  nearly  two  years  since  he  had 
studied  the  manuscript,  and  he  saw  scope  for 
various  improvements,  several  lines  that  appeared 
to  him  clumsy,  one  scene  which,  after  a  fortnight 
of  indecision,  he  decided  to  eliminate. 

It  was  in  the  first  Act ;  in  the  book  it  did  not 
exist  at  all ;  but,  though  he  hated  to  delete  it,  he 
feared  that  it  would  have  become  the  book  better 
than  the  play.  It  seemed  to  him  too  delicate,  too 
literary  for  the  footlights.  He  dreaded  lest,  coming 
so  early  in  the  piece,  it  should  prejudice  M'Crea 
against  the  rest.  Parlett  s  warning  to  him  had  be- 
gotten timidity,  and  he  was  even  afraid  that  if  he 
were  tedious  in  the  opening  pages,  the  manuscript 
might  be  tossed  aside  without  further  perusal. 

He  tore  the  sheets  out — only  two  of  them,  but 
it  was  like  losing  his  heart  s  blood.  So  pretty  a 
scene,  although  it  delayed  the  entrance  of  the 

294 


Out  o'  the  Window 


osses !  He  polished,  and  re-polished,  and  scruti- 
nised again  ;  and  when  the  typewriting  office  had 
done  its  work  he  despatched  the  four  acts  to 
M'Crea,  and  counted  the  days. 

And  in  May  came  another  envelope  stamped 

Hawthorne  Theatre,  N.Y.C."  ;  and  he  found 
with  something  like  stupefaction — for  he  would 
soon  be  forty,  and  he  had  never  had  any  good 
fortune  in  his  life — that  an  agreement  was  en- 
closed for  his  consideration. 

With  publishers'  proposals  he  was  familiar — he 
had  one  that  he  preserved  as  a  curiosity — but  of 
such  agreements  as  this  he  knew  nothing,  and  now 
Parlett  s  experience  was  invaluable.  The  coolness 
with  which  Parlett  ran  his  pen  through  clauses, 
and  scribbled  figures  in  the  margin,  filled  the 
novice  at  once  with  gratitude  and  misgiving ;  and 
when  it  was  stipulated  that  the  piece  should  be 
produced  within  twelve  months,  or  a  hundred 
pounds  forfeited,  he  began  to  feel  that  M'Crea 
would  write  a  very  rude  reply. 

Nevertheless,  M'Crea  s  native  politeness,  or  the 
justice  of  the  alterations,  averted  friction.  The 
amendments  were  accepted,  and  by  a  note  that  ac- 
companied the  new  contract  Lingham  learnt  that 
the  comedy  was  to  be  put  on  at  the  Hawthorne  as 
early  as  next  fall — in  another  word,  the  autumn. 

He  was  still  unaware  whether  Meenie  had 
295 


when  Love  Flies 


returned.  If  he  had  bought  the  theatrical  jour- 
nals as  systematically  as  he  had  looked  for  her 
name  in  the  newspaper,  he  would  have  known 
where  she  was.  Thinking  that  she  might  be 
playing  in  New  York  yet,  the  idea  of  going  over 
there  to  attend  the  rehearsals  of  his  piece  fasci- 
nated him  doubly. 

There  were  no  monetary  difficulties  in  the  way ; 
he  was  spending  little  more  than  his  salary,  and 
his  recent  royalties  from  Alport  would  amply 
suffice  for  the  purpose.  The  prospect  thrilled 
him.  On  the  public  s  reception  of  his  piece  hung 
his  future,  and  he  would  be  there  to  listen  to  the 
verdict.  He  knew  that  he  was  building  on  the 
play  for  more  than  some  thousands  of  pounds, 
for  more  than  the  triumphant  entrance  to  a  fresh 
and  lucrative  career ;  he  knew  that  he  was 
building  on  it  to  give  him  back  his  wife.  If  it 
succeeded  he  would  go  to  her ;  he  would  ask  her 
forgiveness  ;  he  would  own  what  life  had  been 
without  her,  and  implore  her  to  trust  her  happi- 
ness to  him  again.  The  uneventful  summer 
dragged  distressingly.  In  August  he  counted 
the  days  from  mail  to  mail,  and  when  September 
reached  its  end,  and  there  was  silence  still,  he 
could  bear  the  anxiety  no  longer.  He  wrote  an 
eager  inquiry.     He  was  startled  to  learn  by  the 

answer  that  his  comedy  was  already  in  rehearsal. 

296 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Though  he  had  not  informed  the  manager  of  his 
intention  to  go  over,  he  had  taken  it  for  granted 
that  he  would  hear  from  him  in  good  time.  He 
was  chagrined  to  feel  that  he  had  lost  many  sweet 
days.  He  was,  however,  more  chagrined  in  the 
course  of  a  few  hours,  for  soon  afterwards  a  cable- 
gram was  delivered  stating  that  another  play  was 
to  be  the  next  production,  after  all. 

Another!  He  flung  the  message  in  the  fender 
with  a  gasp.  Parlett  had  known  his  world ! 
Yes,  and  very  likely  another,  and  yet  another 
play,  would  be  put  on  first.  After  his  hopes  and 
thanksgivings  and  expectations,  all  he  might  get 
out  of  the  contract  was  the  forfeit.  Fortunately 
he  had  not  booked  a  berth,  but  his  disappoint- 
ment blackened  the  sunshine  to  him.  When  he 
went  to  the  office  Mr.  Hunt  said,  How  soon  do 
you  mean  to  start,  Lingham  ? "  The  question 
was  a  lance.  In  the  evening  he  received  some 
clothes.  He  had  ordered  them  in  anticipation  of 
his  journey,  and  he  mused  bitterly  that  they  would 
be  worn  out  before  the  journey  was  made. 

A  month  passed,  and  when  confidence  was  re- 
viving in  him  and  he  was  beginning  to  put  faith 
in  the  spring,  there  came  a  second  cablegram — 
"  Produce  Angela  sixteenth  instant — M'Crea." 

In  the  first  few  moments  he  only  knew  that 
the  date  was  convulsively  near  ;  then  he  made 

297 


When'  Love  Flies 


out  that  it  meant  a  Wednesday — that  it  meant 
a  week  from  the  morrow.  He  was  a  little  dizzy. 
So  the  other  man's  play  had  proved  a  failure  ? 
He  had  not  taken  that  contingency  into  account. 
He  tried  to  be  sorry  for  him,  but  rejoicing  flooded 
his  soul.  He  ran  from  the  house  and  sprang  into 
a  hansom,  and  secured  a  passage  by  a  boat  that 
sailed  the  following  afternoon.  The  clerk  told 
him  that  she  was  due  in  New  York  on  Tuesday. 
He  might  miss  the  last  of  the  rehearsals,  but 
he  would  arrive  in  time  for  the  first  night ! 

Mr.  Hunt  bade  him  au  revoir,  and  wished  him 
luck.  In  Belsize  Avenue  there  were  more  con- 
gratulations. His  packing  was  the  work  of  half 
an  hour,  and  in  the  morning,  as  he  sped  to 
Euston,  the  jingle  of  the  horse  s  bell  made  music 
to  his  ears. 

Liverpool.  The  crowd  of  tired  spectators  at 
the  intermediate  taffrail,  the  yawning  hold,  the 
shouts  ashore,  the  bustle  and  the  questions  on 
the  boat.  Everywhere  the  American  accent. 
Would  these  people  see  his  play  ?  He  was 
led  to  his  cabin,  and  wondered  how  he  would 
contrive  to  find  it  again.  He  returned  to  the 
deck  ;  confusion  reigned  there  still.  Why  didn't 
the  boat  start?  He  was  irritated  by  the  view 
across  the  vessel's  side,  eager  to  feel  they  moved. 

298 


Out       the  Window 


There  was  the  welcome  throb,  the  receding  quay. 
The  voyage  had  begun. 

But  abortively.  There  came  the  stoppage  at 
Queenstown,  the  delay  there,  the  disconcerting 
news  that  the  brilliant  passages  of  five  days 
and  a  half  were  reckoned  from  Queenstown,  and 
not  from  Liverpool.  Why  ignore  the  eighteen 
intervening  hours?"  he  demanded;  ''everybody 
didn't  live  in  Ireland.''  ''Ocean  steaming!" 
he  was  answered,  and  tried  to  persuade  himself 
that  he  had  just  come  aboard. 

Still  they  were  to  land  on  Tuesday.  So  let 
them  hang  about  the  ports — what  did  it  matter  ? 
When  they  had  finished  fooling,  and  torn  them- 
selves away,  they  must  go  to  work,  and  make 
the  time  good.  After  the  morning  on  which 
he  learnt  that  the  day's  run  was  posted  at  noon 
for  the  satisfaction  of  the  curious  and  the  settle- 
ment of  sweepstakes,  he  was  always  among  the 
first  who  bolted  down  the  companion  to  see  what 
it  had  been.  When  it  fell  from  four  hundred  and 
fifty-six  knots  to  four  hundred  and  forty-four,  his 
spirits  fell  in  proportion. 

And  on  Sunday  the  boat  stopped  again.  What 
for  now  ?  No  one  knew.  He  sauntered  to  and 
fro,  fuming.  Two  hours,  three  hours  crept  by 
before  she  moved.    He  prayed  that  the  next  run 

299 


When  Love  Flies 


posted  would  equalise  matters,  but  he  trembled  ; 
and  when  he  looked  on  Monday  it  had  fallen 
to  figures  of  dismay.  The  other  men  dispersed, 
grumbling.  The  appearance  of  the  captain  was 
the  signal  for  loungers  to  quicken  their  steps, 
and  women  in  deck-chairs  to  drop  their  books, 
and  for  everybody  to  say,  *'When  do  you  think 
we  shall  get  in,  Captain  ?  " 

Impatience  quivered  in  Lingham.  The  thought 
of  landing  on  the  morrow  was  dead,  and  already 
he  was  sick  with  the  fear  that  they  might  not 
arrive  by  Wednesday  night.  There  were  moments 
when  the  lethargic  pulsations  of  the  sluggish 
steamer  maddened  him  ;  when  the  limitless  waste 
of  sunlit  sea  filled  him  with  rage.  His  play! 
Suspense  fevered  his  blood  ;  the  curtain  might 
rise  on  his  play  before  he  was  there ! 

Then  he  understood.  He  heard  that  there 
was  a  flaw  in  the  propeller-shaft,  and  that  to 
steam  slowly  was  their  only  chance  of  avoiding  a 
breakdown.  His  sole  comfort  was  that  the  flaw 
hadn't  occurred  earlier  in  the  voyage  :  they  might 
touch  New  York  by  Wednesday  still.  In  the 
afternoon — the  evening?  In  time  for  him  to 
reach  the  theatre  ?  In  time,  at  least,  for  him 
to  see  half  the  play?  Then  the  last  Act,  if  no 
more  ?     O  God,  be  merciful :  the  last  Act  if 

300 


Out  o'  the  Window 


nothing  else !  They  must  be  so  close,  so  close ! 
A  spurt  might  do  it.  Couldn't  they  make  a 
spurt  ?  He  wrung  his  hands.  What  if  they 
did  break  down  ?  Near  the  harbour  it  would 
be  cheap  enough  to  be  towed  in. 

And  leisurely,  leisurely,  the  steamer  took  her 
course ;  and  Wednesday  s  sunshine  faded,  and 
the  moon  rose — and  they  were  still  at  sea. 
Beyond  the  sullen  water  the  theatre  was  filling. 
He  leant  forard  in  the  silence,  tense  with  the 
fancied  tuning  of  the  band.  Over  there  his  work 
was  fighting  for  his  wife  ;  he  stared  through  the 
gloom,  imagining,  questioning.  Were  there 
hisses,  or  applause?  On  a  sudden  he  remembered 
reading  that  in  New  York  an  audience  were  too 
courteous  to  hiss — they  stole  from  their  seats  ; 
perhaps  the  people  were  stealing  from  them  now. 
The  sweat  burst  out  on  him,  and  he  quaked  in 
his  very  soul. 

He  looked  at  his  watch  :  the  first  Act  must 
be  over !  Starboard,  where  he  walked,  was  de- 
serted ;  a  chill  wind  swept  it,  and  the  men  who 
were  not  below  smoked  on  the  other  side.  Hour 
after  hour  he  paced  the  deck  alone,  as  Act  by 
Act  his  play  was  cheered,  or  damned.  All  that 
evening  he  shook  with  the  thought  that  conquest 
meant  his  plea  to  Meenie — that  she  must,  she 
should  forgive !    The  ship  s  bells  broke  sharply 

301 


When  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


on  the  hush  in  midnight ;  the  curtain  must  have 
fallen  now — the  lights  were  out.  Had  he  won,  or 
lost  ?  The  fight  was  finished — and  his  wife  the 
prize.  He  grew  conscious  that  he  was  very 
cold ;  the  stars  shone  serenely,  and,  shivering,  he 
sought  a  message  in  them.  All  his  pulses  craved 
it.    Had  he  won,  or  lost  ? 

But  there  was  none  to  tell  him  till  the  morrow. 
When  he  woke  the  coast  was  clear,  and  the  pilot 
in  command.  The  passengers  flocked  from  their 
cabins,  he  with  the  rest.  Around  him  there  was 
laughter,  but  he  could  not  laugh  ;  anxiety  held 
him  voiceless.  America  stretched  to  greet  them  ; 
the  Statue  of  Liberty  rose  triumphant  in  the  port. 
Glasses  were  levelled  and  borrowed.  Women 
disappeared,  and  returned  looking  different  in 
bonnets  and  veils.  The  health-boat  approached, 
and  grew  big ;  he  gasped  to  hear  the  morning 
papers  were  inside.  Nearer  and  nearer  drew  the 
boat;  he  could  see  the  white  sheaf  of  dailies" 
under  a  man's  arm.  The  officers  swarmed 
aboard.  There  was  a  clamour  for  the  news. 
He  rushed  to  where  the  papers  were  besieged. 

The  man  cried,  ''Herald?  Tribune?  Sun? 
World?    Which  do  you  want?" 

All !  "  he  said,  all !  "  and  grasped  them  with 
a  prayer. 

302 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


SUCCESS  !  The  headlines  leapt  from  the 
sheet.  Biggest  Kind  of  a  Hit  at  the 
Hawthorne  :  M'Crea  Discovers  a  New  English 
Dramatist."    The  journal  shook  in  his  clutch. 

Enthusiastic  Plaudits  by  a  Delighted  Multi- 
tude." God  bless  America!  One  after  another 
he  read  the  morning  criticisms  while  the  steamer 
floated  closer  to  the  quay,  and  often  he  had  to 
pause  because  the  columns  swam  together. 

He  could  ask  Meenie  to  leave  the  stage,  and 
to  come  back  to  him !  He  could  give  her  all  she 
needed,  more  than  she  would  relinquish  ;  already 
eight  pounds  a  week  was  insignificant  to  his  view. 
He  would  go  to  her  to-day  if  she  were  in  New 
York — directly  he  had  seen  M'Crea.  He  realised 
that  the  papers  should  show  him  if  she  was  play- 
ing in  the  city,  and  he  rustled  the  Herald  im- 
petuously. The  light,  unfamiliar  type  of  the 
advertisements  was  blurred  for  a  moment,  and 
primarily  he  distinguished  nothing.  Then  he 
perceived  that  the  theatres  here  printed  no 
complete  list  of  the  players  ;  few  of  them  men- 

303 


when  Love  Flies 


tioned  more  than  their  *'star."  So  he  could 
gain  no  information  from  the  page  ?  He  was 
disappointed.  The  next  instant  her  name  flashed 
out  to  him  in  capital  letters.  Meenie  Weston 
— Watteau  Theatre — Last  Nights  of  The  Lady 
and  the  Lilacs    His  heart  missed  a  beat. 

He  looked  long  at  the  name  which  had  all  at 
once  so  strange  an  air.  Then  she  must  be  well 
known  now  ;  she  had  sprung  into  prominence. 
There  could  hardly  be  another  Meenie  Weston  " 
on  the  stage?  His  excitement  sank  a  little;  a 
breath  of  misgiving  cooled  his  joy.  In  his 
reveries  her  circumstances  had  remained  the 
same,  and  the  revolution  confused  him ;  his 
mind  would  not  adjust  itself  immediately  to  the 
unforeseen. 

From  the  bustle  of  the  custom-house  he  stood 
aloof;  his  portmanteau  lay  awhile  unclaimed. 
Then  he  noticed  it  and  produced  his  keys,  and 
saw  the  chalk  flourished.  His  belongings  were 
hoisted  to  a  cab,  and  he  was  bumped  over  the 
cobbled  roads  towards  the  hotel  which  had  been 
recommended  to  him. 

The  drive  was  a  short  one,  but  the  fare  re- 
quired was  staggering  even  in  his  abstraction. 
The  high,  wide  window,  descending  almost  to 
the  pavement,  imparted  to  the  exterior  of  the 

304 


Out  o'  the  Window 


hotel  the  aspect  of  a  shop  in  which  they  exposed 
for  sale  nothing  but  chairs  and  men's  legs.  A 
churl  at  the  desk  admitted  that  he  could  stay 
there  if  he  liked,  and  the  first  lift  that  he  had 
entered  in  a  country  where  they  understand  that 
a  lift  is  intended  to  save  time — though  they  waste 
time  by  the  name  they  give  it — shot  him  to  a  room 
in  which  he  could  order  everything,  from  a  sherry- 
cobbler  to  a  fire-engine,  by  pressing  buttons. 

It  was  only  ten  o'clock.  Though  he  was 
impatient  to  obtain  a  verbal  account  of  the 
production,  it  would  be  futile  to  present  himself 
at  the  theatre  so  early.  In  his  eagerness  on 
the  boat  he  had  swallowed  nothing  this  morning 
but  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  he  awoke  to  the  fact  that 
he  was  extremely  hungry.  He  went  down  to  the 
dining-room,  and  learnt  what  a  breakfast  ought 
to  be ;  but  he  wished  that  the  waiter  hadn't 
brought  him  all  the  courses  at  once. 

In  the  hall  he  bought  a  cigar,  and  picked  up 
a  periodical  that  lay  there.  Her  name  startled 
his  eyes  again:  ''The  '  Meenie  Weston'!  We 
introduce  a  very  striking  trimmed  velvet  hat, 
a  creation  from  our  own  workroom.  Simple,  but 
a  simplicity  with  a  most  attractive  effect."  .  .  . 
And  once  more  :  The  '  Meenie  Weston'  Belt ; 
made  of  grey  suede,  white  calf,  patent  leather, 
u  305 


when  Love  Flies 


and  black  seal.  Gilt  buckles.  50  cents  each, 
worth  $1.25."  .  .  .  Yes,  his  wife  had  become 
well  known ! 

He  put  the  periodical  down,  and  sauntered  out 
into  the  streets.  Misgiving  blew  bleakly  in  him 
now.  These  things  meant  popularity ;  they 
meant  public  adulation.  What  if  she  were  un- 
willing to  come  back  to  him  ?  It  seemed  to 
him  suddenly  that  he  had  very  little  to  offer 
her.  She  must  be  paid  a  large  salary,  admired, 
flattered — possibly  loved !  The  colour  left  his 
face.  She  had  touched  her  apex — the  apex  of 
the  opera-bouffe  stage — and  she  was  alone  ;  he 

had  neglected  her.    Supposing  ?    No,  no, 

by  Heaven !  he  knew  her  too  thoroughly  to 
tremble  for  that.  But  there  might  be  another 
man  she  liked — one  to  whom  she  would  have 
wished  to  go.  She  might  be  chafing  at  the  tie 
that  hindered  her.  And  the  man — the  man  !  the 
man  would  be  strong  only  to  oppose  her  virtue. 
Oh,  he  knew  well  what  the  man  would  say ! 
He  heard  himself  described  in  her  lover's  appeals 
— a  husband  who  had  never  valued  her,  who  had 
left  her  to  temptation  with  a  shrug,  a  cad  who 
was  unworthy  her  remembrance.  A  furious  hatred 
of  the  unknown  man  assailed  him,  a  longing  to 
grip  him  by  the  throat,  and  feel  him  writhe. 

306 


Out  o'  the  Window 


A  hoarding  displayed  her  to  him  abruptly  ;  a 
vast  poster  from  which  she  smiled  on  the  world. 
He  stood  and  stared  at  it.  Though  it  told  him 
nothing  of  the  woman's  thoughts,  the  sight  of 
the  actress's  gaiety  was  painful  to  him.  She 
laughed  through  a  lilac  bush,  her  arms  bearing 
down  the  boughs.  The  poster  was  a  patch  of 
vivid  blue,  the  flowering  tree,  and  Meenie. 

Presently  he  inquired  of  a  policeman — fat, 
florid,  arrogant,  twirling  his  staff — in  which 
direction  the  Hawthorne  Theatre  lay.  The 
policeman  said  sharply,  How's  that  ? "  and 
when  the  question  was  repeated,  added  with  a 
scowl,  ''Through  the  park." 

Lingham  strolled  on.  He  came  to  no  park, 
and  it  did  not  occur  to  him  to  associate  the  term 
with  a  square  he  saw.  In  perplexity  at  last  he 
ventured  to  apply  to  a  business-man  evidently 
in  a  hurry.  The  business-man  in  a  hurry  offered 
to  turn  back  and  conduct  him  to  where  he  wished 
to  go.  Information  sufficed,  however,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  he  had  reached  the  house.  He  went 
to  the  box-office,  and,  when  he  mentioned  his 
name,  was  told  that  M'Crea  was  on  the  stage. 
Would  he  go  round,  or  should  the  clerk  let  the 
manager  know  he  was  there  ?  He  answered  that 
he  would  ''go  round." 

307 


when  Love  Flies 


His  card  brought  M'Crea  to  the  door  effusively, 
a  gaunt,  loosely  clothed  man  of  middle-age,  with 
twinkling  eyes. 

My  dear  sir,  I  am  pleased  to  meet  you  ! "  he 
exclaimed.  '*Why  didn't  you  come  last  night? 
You  have  missed  a  treat,  Mr.  Lingham.  You 
have  seen  the  notices,  I  guess  ?  Sir,  the  piece 
went  with  a  bang.  I  congratulate  you.  We 
have  got  a  fortune  here,  sir,  and  don't  you  forget 
it.  There  is  a  call  this  morning  for  just  a  few 
points  ;  come  right  in  !  " 

He  led  the  way  through  a  passage.  The  com- 
pany had  already  assembled,  and  Lingham  found 
himself  presented,  not  undramatically  : 

Ladies  and  gentlemen — the  author  of  the 
piece ! 

There  was  general  surprise  and  gratification  ; 
the  principal  members  came  forward  with  ex- 
tended hands,  and  felicitated  him  on  his  success. 
The  leading  lady  told  him  her  part  was  ''just 
lovely " ;  and  everybody  demanded  the  reason 
he  had  not  come  last  night,  the  name  of  the 
boat  he  had  crossed  by,  and  what  he  thought 
of  America. 

''Will  you  go  in  front,  Mr.  Lingham,"  said 
M'Crea,  "or  will  you  remain  right  here,  sir?" 

''  I  think  ril  go  in  the  stalls/'  said  Lingham, 
308 


Out  o'  the  Window 


pointing,  and  the  prompter  took  him  down  to  the 
seats  he  had  misnamed. 

The  manager  pulled  some  typewritten  memor- 
anda from  his  pocket  briskly — 

''We  will  run  through  Act  one,"  he  said. 
There  are  several  points  that  dragged  in  Act 
one  ;  that  business  with  the  letter  made  me  tired. 
See  here,  this  thing  has  got  to  go  like  clock- 
work ! " 

The  rehearsal  began ;  and  alone  in  the  audi- 
torium, viewing  the  bare,  ill-lighted  stage,  Ling- 
ham  saw  the  characters  of  his  creation  simulated 
by  men  and  women  who  resembled  them  not  at 
all.  His  emotion  was  deep  disappointment.  It 
was  in  vain  he  reminded  himself  that  they  were 
not  dressed  for  the  parts,  that  they  weren't  made 
up  ;  he  could  not  feel  that  the  power  of  clothes, 
and  paint,  and  false  hair  was  strong  enough  to 
endow  even  one  of  them  with  any  likeness  to 
his  mental  pictures.  But  in  America  they  act 
at  rehearsals.  Gradually  he  lost  sight  of  the 
fact  that  these  were  strangers  pretending  to  be 
Angela  and  her  companions  ;  he  began  to  accept 
their  own  statements.  That  was  said  just  as 
the  Angela  of  his  heart  had  said  it !  That  was 
just  what  Angela  would  have  done!  Interest 
succeeded  disillusion  ;  he  leant  forward  eagerly. 

309 


When  Love  Flies 


He  was  charmed — he  wanted  to  clap  his  hands. 
Then,  on  a  sudden,  all  his  pleasure  was 
swallowed  in  amazement :  they  were  speaking 
the  lines  he  had  sacrificed,  the  lines  of  the  two 
pages  he  had  cut  out. 

No,  no  !  "  he  cried  involuntarily. 

''Hows  that?''  said  M'Crea,  looking  down. 
One  moment,  ladies  and  gentlemen !    What  is 
wrong,  Mr.  Lingham  ?  " 

''That  scene  isn't  in,"  stammered  Lingham, 
rising.  The  company  all  pausing  for  his  correc- 
tion, the  sound  of  his  voice  dominating  the 
theatre,  disconcerted  him,  "  That  scene  is  not 
played." 

"I  guess  so/'  replied  M'Crea ;  "it  was  played 
last  night — and  it  seemed  pretty  healthy  then ! 
With  your  permission,  we  will  let  it  go  at 
that?" 

Lingham  murmured  confusedly,  and  sat  down 
again.  He  listened  bewildered.  He  had  de- 
stroyed the  pages  with  his  own  hands  ;  by  what 
magic  did  they  come  here  ?  In  the  manuscript 
he  had  forwarded  they  didn't  exist ;  in  only  two 
manuscripts  had  they  ever  existed.  From  one  he 
had  torn  them.  .  .  .  The  other — the  knowledge 
rushed  through  him — the  other  had  belonged  to 
Meenie  ! 

310 


Out  o'  the  Window 


To  Meenie !  Only  Meenie  had  had  this 
scene.  .  .  .  But  how  could  M'Crea  have  known 
she  had  it  ?  Even  if  she  rejoiced  to  hear  the 
piece  was  coming  out,  why  should  she  have 
written  to  him  to  say  she  had  a  copy  ?  .  .  .  Yet 
she  had  done  something  of  the  kind — it  was 
plain,  luminous !  Then  she  must  care  a  little 
still ;  it  was  proof  she  wasn't  indifferent. 
■  He  ceased  to  attend  to  the  rehearsal ;  he  was 
engrossed  by  conjecture.  When  he  was  joined 
by  M'Crea  at  last,  he  complimented  him  on  his 
stage-management  in  a  breath,  and  blurted  his 
astonishment. 

"  Mr.  M'Crea,''  he  said,  "  I  have  nothing  against 
that  scene — on  the  contrary,  it  was  a  favourite 
scene  of  mine — I  cut  it  out  simply  because  I  was 
afraid  it  was  in  the  way.  But  I  did  cut  it  out. 
I  never  sent  it  to  you,  and  it  wasn't  in  the  novel. 
If  you  have  no  objection  to  telling  me,  I  should 
very  much  like  to  hear  how  you  got  it." 

What  s  the  matter  with  the  scene,  anyhow  ?  " 
returned  the  manager.  You  are  the  first  author 
I  ever  struck  who  had  his  knife  into  one  of  his 
own  scenes.  Queerest  thing  I  ever  heard  in  my 
life ! " 

Lingham  looked  at  him  doubtfully.  "  Will  you 
answer  another  question,  then  ?  "  he  said.  Did 

311 


When  Love  Flies 


Miss  Meenie  Weston  come  to  any  of  the  re- 
hearsals ?  " 

''She  did  not,  sir/'  said  M'Crea,  ''never  one." 
"  You  know  her  ?  " 

'"Know  her 7  Well,  I  guess  all  N'York 
knows  her — as  an  artiste.  Meenie  Weston,  sir, 
has  been  as  fortunate  on  this  side  as  one  of  our 
Amurrican  belles  has  lately  been  on  yours  :  she 
had  no  position  to  speak  of  at  home,  and  in 
N'York  she  became  the  rage.  Yes,  sir^  I  know 
Meenie  Weston,  and  a  sweet,  good,  honest  little 
woman  she  is ;  take  it  from  her  manager !  If 
you  are  keen  on  seeing  her  performance,  I  shall 
be  pleased  to  accommodate  you  at  the  Watteau 
any  evening  before  we  close. 

"  Oh,  the  Watteau  is  yours  too,"  said  Lingham, 
''  is  it  I  didn't  know.  Well,  never  mind  the 
ticket,  thanks;  will  you  tell  me  where  she  is  stay- 
ing?   I  want  to  call." 

M'Crea  scribbled  on  an  envelope.  "  You  will 
do  me  the  justice  to  inform  Miss  Weston  that  I 
gave  you  the  ^^dress  at  your  request  .^^ "  he  said. 
"And  to  repeat  our  conversation?  Will  you 
lunch,  Mr.  Lingham?    No?    Well,  shake!" 

Lingham  grasped  his  hand,  and  they  made 
their  way  together  to  the  street.  Here  the  route 
was  indicated  to  the  nearest  "deepot"  of  the 

312 


Out  o'  the  Window 


Elevated  Railway.  He  strode  on  excitedly ; 
activity  was  a  delight.  The  mildness  of  the 
''Indian  summer"  was  past,  but  the  rigour  of 
the  winter  had  not  begun,  and  the  clear,  keen 
air  was  inspiriting.  To  his  new  mood  the  city, 
in  its  crystal  atmosphere,  compelled  exhilaration. 
The  Londoner  noted  how  definite,  how  clean-cut 
were  all  the  objects  that  met  his  view,  how  truly 
one  saw  everything  for  once.  And  everything 
arrested  his  attention.  The  splashes  of  bright 
colour  made  by  the  fruit  -  stalls  at  occasional 
corners  ;  the  public  platforms  on  which  men  re- 
clined in  elaborate  chairs  while  a  negro  polished 
their  boots  with  a  strip  of  flannel ;  even  the  per- 
fect fashion  in  which  the  women  wore  the  pink 
roses  in  their  jackets — not  at  all  in  the  English 
style,  not  much  like  the  French — each  detail 
stamped  itself  on  him  now.  Broadway  was  a 
narrow  stream  of  traffic,  and  in  perspective  the 
roofs  of  the  swiftly  gliding  cars  looked  like 
white  parasols  floating  in  a  line.  He  mounted 
the  steps  of  the  depot ;  and,  in  the  corridor 
train  which  flew  past  the  first-floor  windows, 
sat  between  a  society  woman  and  a  Chinese 
laundryman  till  he  heard  that  he  had  to  get 
out. 

Meenie's  address  was  an  hotel  at  the  corner  of 

313 


when  Love  Flies 


72nd  Street  and  Lexington  Avenue.  He  inquired 
nervously  if  she  was  in 

''I  guess  not/'  said  the  clerk;  "what  name 
shall  I  say?" 

Say  her — say  ^  Mr.  Lingham/  "  he  answered. 
Stop,  I'll  send  up  my  card."    And  he  wrote  on 
it,    May  I  see  you  ?  " 

While  he  waited  his  agitation  increased.  He 
wondered  if,  after  all,  he  hadn't  argued  too  much 
from  her  interest  in  the  piece ;  wondered  why  he 
had  dared  to  suppose  she  would  make  the  sacri- 
fice he  had  come  to  ask.  A  page-boy  relieved 
the  tension  ;  she  was  at  home.  The  urchin  led 
led  him  to  a  lift,  and  across  a  landing,  and  rapped 
at  a  door. 

Her  voice  said  :    Come  in." 

She  was  standing.  Her  face  was  very  pale, 
and  there  was  no  smile  in  her  eyes.  His  im- 
pression was  of  an  older  woman  than  he  had 
expected  to  see  ;  the  interval  had  robbed  her  of 
her  girlishness. 

Meenie  !  "  he  said.  .  .  .  I — it  was  good  of 
you  to  let  me  come  up.  I — I  arrived  this  morn- 
ing ;  I've  been  hoping  you  were  here." 

She  did  not  speak.  He  held  his  hat  awkwardly, 
and  there  was  a  moment's  pause.  He  was  con- 
scious that  she  had  acquired  an  air  of  wealth, 

314 


Out  o'  the  Window 


of  fashion  ;  it  added  to  his  constraint.  He  put 
the  hat  aside,  and  moved  ^-owards  her  with  slow 
steps. 

Won't  you  say  something  ?  "  he  asked.  Are 
you  sorry  IVe  come  ?  " 

I  was  surprised,"  she  said  quietly  ;  I  had  no 
idea  you  were  in  America.'' 

I  came  over  for  the  production,  but  the  boat 
was  late.  So  you  have  got  on,  eh  ?  More  than 
we  ever  thought  about?    You  deserved  it." 

Thank  you,"  she  said.  I  was  glad  to  read 
of  the  success  of  your  play.  .  .  .  Won't  you  sit 
down  ?  " 

I  have  just  found  out  you  were  generous 
enough  to  take  an  interest  in  it,"  he  murmured. 
Her  brows  contracted  sharply,  and  her  eyelids  fell. 

I  can't  tell  you  what  that  meant  to  me  !  I — 
Words  sound  very  stupid  sometimes — I  am  grate- 
ful." He  was  standing  before  her  still,  and  now 
he  drew  close  to  her  side.  "  I  was  coming  to  you 
anyhow ;  and  when  I  found  you  hadn't  forgotten 

me,  I  thought — I  fancied  Meenie,  I've  been 

sorry  every  day  since  you  went!  I've  missed 
you  horribly  ;  I  was  a  fool,  a  beast ;  I've  been 
ashamed.  ...  Is  it  absurd  to  ask  if  you  can 
forgive  me  ?  " 

What  I  had  to  forgive,"  she  replied,  looking 
315 


When  Love  Flies 


at  the  ground,  I  forgave  long  ago.  .  .  .  We 
separated  because  we  wished  it ;  there  s  no  need 
for  you  or  me  to  be  ashamed.'' 

''You  mean,"  he  said,  ''you  mean  that  you  re 
content  ? '' 

"  I  mean  that  what  we  did  was  wise."  She 
met  his  gaze.    "  We  have  known  it  all  the  time." 

"I  haven t  known  it!"  he  cried;  "you  may 
have  known  it — not  I !  After  you  had  gone  I 
hated  myself ;  I  saw  how  much  I  cared  for  you. 
Its  difficult  to  speak — to  beg  you  to  trust  me  again 
is  to  beg  you  to  give  up  so  much  now — but  I 
love  you.  I  made  M'Crea  tell  me  where  you 
were ;  I  hoped  to  persuade  you  to  come  back 
to  me." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  was  afraid  when 
I  saw  your  name  that  you  had  come  for  that. 
I  hoped  you  wouldn't  say  it." 

"Your  position  is  so  dear  to  you?"  he  muttered 
blankly.    "  Or  can't  you  forget  how  I  behaved  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  "my  position  is  not  so  dear  to 
me  ;  but  I  understand  too  well.  ...  I  tried  to 
prevent  all  this.  I  was  glad  to  be  of  use,  because 
— because  I  remembered  all  the  hopes  we  had  had 
together,  but  I  never  meant  you  to  know  what 
I'd  done ;  if  M'Crea  had  kept  his  promise  to  me, 
you  wouldn't  hav-e  known.    You  say  you  love  me 

316 


Out  o'  the  Window 


—perhaps  even  for  an  hour  you  think  it — but 
your  first  word  was  the  right  one.  You  are 
'grateful/  and  thats  all." 

''What  is  it,"  said  Lingham,  "that  you  think 
Fm  grateful  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  "  don't  sham  to  me  !  Do 
you  suppose  I  don't  know  what  has  brought  you 
here?  Do  you  suppose  I've  no  pride?  Do  you 
take  me  for  a  child,  that  you  come  and  talk 
to  me  like  this  ?  '  Love  '  ?  You  thought  of  me 
as  I  used  to  be ;  you  imagined  me  a  foolish  girl, 
wretched  without  you  ;  you  said,  '  I  owe  it  all  to 
her,  so  I  must  go  and  make  amends ' !  " 

He  did  not  cry  out ;  he  made  no  movement ; 
he  stood  staring  at  her  dumbly.  She  saw  she 
had  divulged  the  truth  to  him  herself. 

At  last  he  said — 

"  If  I  owe  it  all  to  you,  Meenie,  I  am  glad. 
I  didn't  know  it,  though,  believe  me ;  I  only  came 
because  I  loved  you.  .  .  .  Tell  me  what  you  did." 

"  It  was  I  who  first  showed  the  piece  to  him," 
she  faltered.  "He  liked  it.  And  then  I  told  him 
who  you  were,  and  that  he  mustn't  mention  me. 
.  .  .  That  was  why  he  wrote  about  the  book  :  he 
couldn't  say  that  he  had  read  the  play."  She 
turned  from  him  trembling ;  the  tears  were  in  his 
eyes. 

317 


when  Love  Flies  Out  o'  the  Window 


I  wish  I  had  been  worthier,"  he  whispered. 
It  was  nothing,"  said  the  woman. 
There  was  silence.    When  he  could  trust  his 
voice — 

''I  only  came  because  I  loved  you,"  he  repeated. 
''It  meant  you  to  me  from  the  beginning ;  from 
the  first  moment  I  thought  of  you  and  hoped. 
When  I  read  the  notices  I  was  mad  to  find  you. 
Then  I  learnt  what  you  had  become,  and  I  was 
afraid.  At  the  rehearsal  there  was  a  scene  I 
hadn't  sent — I  knew  that  you  had  had  it ;  but 
that  was  all,  on  my  honour,  it  was  all !  .  .  . 
Meenie,  I  wanted  success,  because  I  wanted  you  ; 
it  s  no  good  to  me  without  you.  You  have  given 
me  the  success — won't  you  give  me  your  love 
again  ?  Til  do  my  best  to  deserve  you  ;  I  swear 
I  will !  .  .  .  Will  you  come  back  to  me  ?  " 

He  waited,  because  she  couldn't  speak.  Her 
face  was  still  averted,  but  he  saw  the  throbbing 
in  her  neck.  Her  hand  sought  his  blindly  ;  she 
drew  it  close  to  her,  and  held  it  to  her  heart. 

THE  END 


Plymouth:  W.  Bre7idon  and  Son,  Printers. 


'  THE  WORLDLINGS 


BY  LEONARD  MERRICK. 


"  Than  the  character  of  Maurice  Blake,  Mr.  Merrick  has  done  nothing  better  ;  it  is  a 
really  thoughtful  study  of  a  thoroughly  human  and  convincing  man,  a  gentleman  in 
spite  of  his  startling  lapse  from  the  paths  of  honesty,  admirable  in  spite  of  his  frailties. 
As  for  Helen  Cleeve,  we  can  only  say  that  she  is  almost  worthy  to  rank  with  Blanche 
Ellerton,  the  woman  Mr.  Merrick  has  depicted  with  such  a  masterly  hand  in  The  Actor- 
Manager.  .  .  .  His  workmanship  is  as  excellent  as  ever ;  his  dramatic  power,  his 
sensibility,  the  keenness  of  his  observation,  are  as  remarkable  here  as  in  his  previous 
volumes." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

A  good  plot,  clever  characterisation,  and  a  style  quick  and  virile.  The  plot  alone 
will  probably  suffice  for  the  hardened  devourer  of  novels,  but  if  the  pace  is  tpo  rapid, 
there  is  danger  of  missing  the  delicate  flavour  of  not  a  few  subtly  conceived  situations. 
.  .  .  The  restraint  of  the  book  is  admirable,  and  it  is  all  the  pleasanter  to  feel  the  tingle 
of  the  blood  as  we  do  in  the  really  fine  love-passage  at  the  close." — Literature. 

"It  shows  how  much  may  be  made  of  a  trite  subject  by  real  literary  art.  .  .  .  Mr. 
Merrick's  rare  gifts  of  social  realism  and  moral  insight  convert  conventionalities  into 
fascinations.  The  truthfulness  and  fineness  of  his  talent  have  never  been  more  power- 
fully displayed." — Saturday  Review. 

.  .  A  clever  book.  Mr.  Merrick  writes  with  grip  .  .  .  puts  thought,  time,  and 
observation  into  his  work.  .  .  .  He  writes  with  a  cool  head,  which  is  nine  times  a  merit 
for  once  that  it  is  a  disadvantage.  .  .  .  He  is  a  reflective  observer,  who  is  not  to  be 
carried  away  by  the  strangeness,  or  even  the  poignancy,  of  what  he  observes.  The 
great  matter  is  that  he  observes  well,  and  faithfully  records  his  observations." — Thnes. 

"Mr.  Merrick's  aim  is  always  'to  tell  a  story.'  He  finds  an  interesting  sequence  of 
events  .  .  .  and  then  proceeds  to  relate  as  simply  as  possible.  There  is  no  'decoration,' 
no  overlaying,  no  pause  for  the  performance  of  feats  for  the  gallery.  This  is  right. 
Some  novelists  are  called  artists  because  they  do  the  very  tricks  which  Mr.  Merrick  is 
artist  enough  to  leave  alone.  The  novel  is  .  .  .  good,  quiet,  unassuming,  severe,  digni- 
fied. The  characterisation  of  the  four  principal  persons  is  done  with  genuine  skill." 
— A  cademy. 

"There  are  some  moods  in  which  it  is  almost  impossible  to  interest  yourself  in  any 
book.  In  such  a  mood  I  languidly  picked  up  The  Worldlings,  and  in  a  minute  I  was 
interested.  Mr.  Merrick  has  the  supreme  art  ...  of  making  you  want  to  know  what 
comes  next.  It  is  surprising  how  far  it  goes.  .  .  .  He  treats  the  theme  so  cleverly  that 
Blake  never  loses  your  sympathy.  That  is  another  feature  of  Mr.  Merrick's  art.  He 
makes  you  exude  sympathy.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Fleming  in_  other  hands  would  be  a  mechanical 
adventuress.  He  makes  her  real,  not  by  false  sentiment,  or  idealising  humbug,  but  by 
simple,  truthful  presentation." — Star. 

"Amongst  the  flood  of  commonplace  novels  that  keep  pouring  from  the  press  it  is  a 
keen  delight  to  come  upon  a  book  like  this,  marked  by  so  many  qualities  of  the  truest 
literary  art.  We  are  struck  by  its  intense  realism  in  the  very  first  chapter,  and  as  we 
proceed  we  find  that  besides  its  pervading  sense  of  reality,  the  book  is  dominated  by  a 
dramatic  instinct  of  the  rarest  kind,  and  written  in  a  style  which  for  purity,  exactness, 
and  restraint  is  the  opposite  of  the  slipshod  verbiage  into  which  so  many  even  of  our 
better  novelists  frequently  allow  themselves  to  fall.  .  .  .  Without  doubt  this  novel  is 
one  of  exceptional  power." — Glasgow  Herald. 

"  When  men  like  Maurice  Blake  are  less  rare  in  fiction  than  they  are  in  everyday  life, 
fiction  will  be  in  much  closer  touch  with  reality.  .  .  .  Mr.  Merrick  is  writing  fully  up  to 
his  already  high  reputation." — Sunday  Special. 

"The  story  is  full  of  beauty  and  pathos.  .  .  .  We  cannot  be  too  grateful  for  such  a 
book  as  The  Worldlings." — Churchwoman. 

"The  working  out  of  this  strange  moral  problem  is  supremely  clever.  Making 
allowance  for  the  artistic  license  ...  it  is  true  both  in  philosophy  and  religion.  With 
very  difficult  material  to  handle,  Mr.  Merrick  has  wrought  out  a  most  interesting  novel — 
and  not  the  less  interesting  because  it  serves  a  great  purpose." — Methodist  Recorder. 


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